THE  CHOICE 


THE  CHOICE 


BY 

MAURICE  WEYL 


NEW  YORK 

MITCHELL  KENNERLEY 
MCMXIX 


COPYRIGHT,  1919,  BY  MITCHELL  KENNERLEY 


To  my  son  Charles 

for  whose  amusement 
the  story  was  written 


THE  CHOICE 

PART  ONE 

SUSAN 
CHAPTER  I 

A3NATH  McBRIDE,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  had 
reached  that  happy  stage  in  life's  journey  at 
which  she  felt  entitled  to  consider  herself  no 
longer  a  child.  No  suspicion  of  the  responsibility  which 
attaches  even  to  the  beginning  of  maturity  had  yet 
crossed  her  mind.  She  was  happy  because  she  was 
healthy.  Her  work,  that  of  a  telephone  operator,  was  a 
great  delight  to  her  even  though,  in  speaking  of  it,  she 
referred  to  it  as  a  form  of  drudgery  to  which  she  was 
compelled  by  poverty.  No,  not  poverty — that  condition 
connoted  something  very  like  pauperism,  dirt;  every- 
thing that  was  undesirable. 

She  would  have  resented  being  called  "poor,"  although 
she  was  given  to  saying  it  herself.  But  then,  she  said  it 
with  a  deprecating  little  smile  which  took  all  of  the 
humility  out  of  the  statement  and  left  the  hearer  to 
understand  that  the  McBrides  were  really  very  superior 
people  whose  circumstances,  unfortunately,  did  not  per- 
mit of  certain  luxuries  which  rich  people  enjoyed  or 
rather  submitted  to  because  they  really  did  not  know 
what  to  do  with  their  money. 

Asenath's  father  was  a  foreman  in  a  packing-box  fac- 

6 


6  THE    CHOICE 

tory.  A  worthy  man  if  ever  there  was  one.  His  views  of 
life  were  casehardened.  A  stern  Presbyterian,  he  had  no 
doubts  as  to  what  was  right  and  what  was  wrong.  He 
used  the  Bible  as  the  final  guide,  accepting  its  word,  in 
English,  of  course,  as  the  definite  pronouncement  of  the 
Almighty.  He  never  hesitated  a  single  moment  in 
deciding  the  meaning  of  any  injunction  as  an  explicit 
confirmation  of  any  of  his  own  prejudices.  It  was  not  so 
much  that  he  agreed  with  the  Bible  as  that  the  Bible 
invariably  agreed  with  him. 

Especially  did  the  injunction  as  to  the  spoiling  of 
children  by  sparing  the  rod,  and  others  emphasizing  the 
authority  of  the  husband,  appeal  to  him.  Asenath's 
childhood  had  been  spent  in  fear  of  him,  a  fear  built 
upon  actual  application  of  the  rod. 

Asenath's  mother  likewise  held  her  husband  in  awe. 
In  her  case,  she  was  a  completely  colorless  person;  her 
dependence  upon  McBride  for  guidance  in  all  things 
made  her  life  an  extremely  easy  one,  that  is,  mentally. 
She  never  had  to  think  about  anything  except  the  affairs 
of  her  household  and  her  dress.  She  took  her  life  for 
granted  and  was  quite  content  to  accept  her  husband's 
opinions  as  completely  final. 

For  Asenath,  she  was  a  mere  servant  in  every  way 
except  in  matters  which  involved  action  contrary  to  the 
rules  of  life  laid  down  by  the  master  of  the  household. 
A  skillful  needlewoman,  utterly  devoid  of  taste  in  dress, 
she  was  able,  under  Asenath's  instructions,  to  make 


THE    CHOICE  7 

beautiful  clothes  for  her.  For  Asenath  knew  how  to 
dress.  She  bought  fashion  magazines  and  was  at  no  loss 
to  select  the  styles  which  were  in  vogue  and,  at  the  same 
time,  suited  to  her  figure  and  coloring. 

She  feared  her  father  and  admired  him  in  a  way.  Not 
warmly,  for  his  aloofness,  due  to  his  constant  assump- 
tion of  superior  virtue,  made  any  affectionate  regard 
impossible.  For  her  mother  she  entertained  about  the 
quality  of  liking  that  would  ordinarily  be  awakened  by 
a  good  cow,  one  who  produced  a  regular  amount  of 
excellent  milk.  She  told  her  mother  everything  that 
came  into  her  head  when  they  were  together,  not  be- 
cause she  wanted  her  mother  to  know  what  she  told  her, 
but  because  she  wanted  to  tell  somebody. 

Mrs.  McBride  was  utterly  commonplace.  She  had 
never  been  anything  but  diffident,  and  any  lack  of  self- 
confidence  which  may  have  marked  her  when  she  first 
married  was  confirmed  and  increased  by  her  husband's 
complete  self -sufficiency.  In  the  early  days  of  their  mar- 
riage, she  once  ventured  an  opinion  on  some  small 
matter,  probably  having  been  encouraged  thereto  by 
some  caress,  but  only  once.  On  that  occasion,  McBride's 
contempt  was  so  evident  and  so  painful  that  a  repetition 
of  the  experience  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 

But  this  distinctly  negative  quality  of  Mrs.  McBride 
was  as  potent  a  factor  in  the  formation  of  Asenath 's 
character  as  the  sternness  of  her  father.  Where  the  self- 
effacement  of  her  mother  gave  her  assurance  and  confi- 


8  THE    CHOICE 

dence  in  herself,  the  aloofness  and  austerity  of  her 
father  gave  her  a  wholesome  respect  for  authority. 

Of  course,  Asenath's  character,  like  nearly  every- 
body's, was  mostly  born  in  her.  The  elements  were  hers, 
but  their  growth  in  the  direction  in  which  they  finally 
were  led  was  the  result  of  her  narrow  life  as  a  child  and 
an  adolescent,  and  her  later  experiences  in  a  world  which 
to  her  seemed  very,  very  wide.  Perhaps  it  really  was. 

-  Card  playing,  dancing,  the  theatre  were  all  anathema 
in  the  McBride  household.  The  chief  joy  of  life  was 
church-going.  Twice  on  every  Sunday,  Mr.  McBride 
and  Asenath  went  to  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  to 
attend  services.  Mrs.  McBride  went  at  least  once  every 
Sunday  and  all  three  of  them  went  to  the  Wednesday 
evening  prayer  meeting.  In  addition,  Asenath  attended 
Sunday  School,  and  the  whole  family  was  present  on 
every  other  occasion  for  church  activity,  suppers,  con- 
certs, and  so  on. 

The  views  of  the  senior  McBrides  on  their  relation  to 
religion  undoubtedly  offer  a  fertile  field  for  interesting 
speculation,  but  we  shall  not  consider  them.  What 
interests  us  is  Asenath;  not  merely  her  views  of  the 
church  and  religion  generally,  but  rather  the  effect  of 
this  constant  association  with  church-going  people  in 
her  early  youth  upon  her  attitude  towards  life  as  she 
grew  older,  and  the  results  of  this  attitude  as  shown  in 
her  actions. 

Some  of  the  incidents  in  her  life  are  pressing  for  a 


THE    CHOICE  9 

place  in  this  chronicle  and  it  will  not  do  to  delay  their 
appearance  much  longer.  It  will  be  better,  however,  to 
finish  with  the  mention  of  certain  facts  of  her  childhood 
which  were  potent  factors  in  the  formation  of  her  views 
of  life,  before  actually  beginning  with  the  story. 

Strange  to  say,  Asenath's  constant  attendance  at 
church  and  Sunday  School  was  without  effect  in  making 
her  either  devout  or  skeptical.  She  went  as  a  pure  matter 
of  course.  The  sermons  she  heard  never  reached  her 
brain  and  her  Sunday  School  lessons  were  learned  only 
with  her  lips.  The  sole  interest  which  she  found  in 
church-going  was  social.  She  formed  a  few  acquaint- 
ances there,  principally  girls  of  about  her  own  age.  The 
boys  interested  her  very  slightly. 

This  may  have  been  dup  to  the  fact  that  she  was  not 
permitted  to  go  out  in  the  evenings,  nor  was  she  allowed 
to  have  boys  call  on  her.  Once,  when  she  was  about  fif- 
teen, a  boy  walked  home  with  her  from  Sunday  School 
and  would  have  come  into  the  house  with  her  had  it  not 
been  that  McBride  opened  the  door  for  them  and  liter- 
ally prevented  the  boy's  entrance. 

When  Asenath  was  safely  inside  the  house,  her  father 
told  her  in  no  uncertain  terms  that  he  considered  her  too 
young  to  associate  with  boys.  Later,  when  she  discussed 
the  matter  with  her  mother,  she  received  explicit  instruc- 
tions on  the  subject.  Asenath  offered  no  protest  what- 
ever. She  was  really  not  much  interested. 

She   formed   comparatively   few   acquaintances  at 


10  THE    CHOICE 

school.  Her  father's  strict  instructions  compelled  her  to 
come  home  immediately  the  session  was  over.  Conse- 
quently, she  had  small  opportunity  to  form  friendships. 

If  her  religious  education  was  not  accomplished  by  her 
constant  attendance  at  church  and  Sunday  School,  her 
secular  education  was  not  much  furthered  by  the  public 
school.  Of  course,  she  learned  to  read  and  write  and  she 
acquired  a  slight  acquaintance  with  arithmetic.  What 
she  learned  in  other  subjects  never  remained  in  her 
mind  after  she  had  passed  an  examination.  She  learned, 
not  from  interest,  but  by  necessity.  The  necessity  once 
past,  the  matter  dropped  from  her. 

The  only  book  which  was  ever  read  in  the  McBride 
household  was  the  Bible.  Strictly  speaking,  even  that 
was  not  read,  that  is,  used  as  literature.  Its  perusal, 
one  chapter  at  a  time,  was  a  work  of  duty.  It  was  just 
like  their  saying  grace  before  meals,  a  matter  of  habit. 
They  did  not  really  feel  the  gratitude  to  the  Almighty 
which  they  expressed.  If  they  had  ever  thought  about 
it  at  all,  they  might  possibly  have  been  compelled  to 
admit  that  the  act  was  one  of  propitiation  solely. 

But  they  did  not  think.  Instead,  they  just  read  the 
Bible  regularly  and  said  grace  each  day  just  as  mechani- 
cally as  they  ate  their  meals. 

The  newspaper  was  the  one  piece  of  literature  which 
illumined  the  family  life.  Both  of  Asenath's  parents  read 
it.  McBride  read  the  headlines  of  the  really  important 
news,  occasionally  reading  the  article  under  some  head- 


THE    CHOICE  11 

line  which  interested  him;  but  what  gave  him  most 
pleasure  was  the  local  news,  the  stories  about  people 
with  whose  names  he  was  familiar.  He  also  read  the 
church  news. 

Mrs.  McBride  never  could  wait  for  the  morning  paper. 
Naturally,  she  arose  earlier  than  her  husband,  as  she  had 
his  breakfast  to  prepare.  But  McBride's  breakfast  never 
received  any  attention  until  she  had  meticulously  scruti- 
nized the  list  of  deaths.  It  was  inevitable,  with  her 
extremely  limited  number  of  acquaintances,  that  she 
was  rarely  rewarded  by  reading  the  notice  of  the  death 
of  anyone  whom  she  knew  or  even  had  heard  of.  But  she 
persevered,  hoping  always. 

Asenath  never  read  the  newspaper.  She  never  read  any- 
thing for  pleasure.  She  was  compelled  to  do  some  little 
reading  in  her  school  work,  but  she  never  had  the  oppor- 
tunity to  learn  whether  or  not  she  had  any  taste  for  it. 

She  was  a  quiet  child.  She  played  with  dolls  in  a 
demure,  silent  way.  She  rarely  spoke  to  the  doll,  so  it 
was  impossible  for  anyone  to  determine  how  much  illu- 
sion there  was  for  her  in  her  play.  As  she  grew  older,  she 
helped  in  the  work  of  the  household  to  some  extent,  and 
then,  later,  she  took  the  position  in  the  telephone 
exchange. 

What  did  interest  her  was  her  dress,  her  appearance. 
Nearly  all  of  her  thought  was  centered  on  this  one  sub- 
ject. Not  through  coquetry  of  any  sort,  because,  up  to 
her  eighteenth  year  at  least,  she  was  innocent  of  all 


12  THE    CHOICE 

forms  of  it,  whether  consciously  or  unconsciously.  She 
was  extremely  fastidious  in  every  respect.  No  detail  of 
her  toilet  was  glossed  over.  Both  her  person  and  her 
attire  were  immaculate.  And  her  care  for  her  person 
rested  upon  the  most  solid  of  foundations. 

For  Asenath  was  beautiful;  not  merely  pretty,  with 
the  charm  which  always  attaches  to  youth.  Her  beauty 
was  of  a  more  enduring  quality,  one  which  reaches  its 
full  flowering  with  maturity. 

No  combination  of  words  can  describe  any  human 
face.  To  say  that  her  skin  was  wonderfully  clear  and 
fair  gives  one  idea;  to  say  that  her  waving  hair  was  a 
deep,  rich  red  gives  another.  Some  impression  of  her 
slenderness  may  be  communicated  by  words,  as  is  also 
true  of  her  height,  which  was  slightly  above  medium;  of 
her  tapering  hands,  of  her  narrow,  aristocratic  foot. 

But  these  are  mere  details  whose  interrelation  it  is 
impossible  to  visualize  and,  therefore,  as  description, 
they  are  almost  worthless.  Fortunately,  in  Asenath's 
case,  it  is  possible  to  set  forth  a  nearly  perfect  picture. 
For  Asenath  resembled  the  well-known  portrait  of 
Madame  Vigee  le  Brun,  that  in  which  she  has  her  child 
in  her  arms.  She  had  the  same  fine  delicacy  of  feature, 
the  same  lovely  harmony  of  form. 

Her  gray  eyes  expressed  candor,  sincerity,  spirituality. 
Whether  these  characters  were  hers  in  actuality  as  well 
as  in  the  look  she  gave  to  the  world,  a  study  of  her  proxi- 
mate adventures  may  disclose. 


CHAPTER  II 

A3NATH  liked  her  work  from  the  very  beginning. 
She  was  fascinated  by  the  mystery  of  the  tele- 
phone exchange,  a  fascination  which  happily  re- 
mained. She  had  no  difficulty  in  mastering  her  work,  for 
she  was  neither  nervous  nor  self-conscious.  In  addition, 
she  had  a  high  co-ordination  which  made  any  muscular 
activity  easy. 

But,  more  than  by  the  work  itself  was  she  interested 
in  the  girls  with  whom  she  became  acquainted  in  the 
exchange.  They  were  drawn  from  the  whole  world. 
They  represented  ideas  and  training  which  until  then 
were  utterly  foreign  to  her.  It  was  very  different  from  her 
friends  in  the  church.  They  were  all  more  or  less  of  the 
samedrab,  uninterestingtype.  Those  of  them  who  hadin- 
dividuality  kept  it  for  use  elsewhere,  and  the  rest  of  them 
were  just  as  significant  intellectually  as  Asenath  herself. 
There  was  one  girl  in  particular  in  the  exchange  who 
attracted  Asenath  from  the  very  beginning.  Naturally, 
she  was  of  the  type  almost  exactly  opposite.  She  was 
bright,  vivacious,  nervously  quick  in  all  of  her  actions. 
She  was  short,  dark,  rather  inclined  towards  plumpness. 
She  would  have  been  rather  homely  had  not  the  liveli- 
ness of  her  expression  lent  her  face  charm. 

It  was  at  the  lunch  hour  that  they  had  their  first  talk. 
Susan  Collins,  that  was  her  name,  had  been  struck  with 

13 


14  THE     CHOICE 

Asenath's  beauty  and,  being  one  of  those  of  her  sex  who 
are  subject  to  this  appeal,  she  determined  to  become 
acquainted.  At  the  lunch  hour  this  was  easy.  She  simply 
followed  Asenath  and  took  a  seat  next  to  her. 

"How  do  you  like  it  here?"  she  began. 

"Very  much,"  answered  Asenath. 

"Ever  work  before?" 

"No,"  said  Asenath.  She  would  have  been  glad  to  add 
something  more,  but  she  could  not  think  of  anything 
to  say. 

"My  name's  Susan  Collins,"  said  that  young  lady 
after  a  short  pause.  "What's  yours?" 

"  McBride,"  answered  Asenath. 

"Just  McBride?"  queried  the  other. 

"No;  Asenath." 

"Asenath!  That's  an  odd  name.  I've  never  heard  it. 
Is  it  French?" 

"I  don't  know.  It's  out  of  the  Bible." 

"Oh!"  questioningly.  "What  part?" 

"Asenath  was  Joseph's  wife." 

"Which  Joseph?" 

"The  Joseph  in  the  Old  Testament." 

The  conversation  lagged  for  a  moment.  Asenath 
would  have  liked  to  continue  it  but  knew  not  how.  Susan 
was  readier.  She  began  again. 

"That's  a  sweet  waist  you've  got  on.  Where  did  you 
buy  it?" 

"My  mother  made  it." 


THE    CHOICE  15 

"Oh!    Did   she?    Where'd   she   get   the   pattern?" 

"Out   of   the   Delineator." 

"Did  she  make  your  skirt,  too?" 

"Yes." 

"I  wish  my  mother  could  make  things  like  that  for 
me.  But  she  ain't  got  the  time.  There's  four  kids  at 
home,  I'm  the  oldest,  and  she's  got  her  hands  full." 

Asenath  did  not  answer.  She  was  enjoying  the  com- 
panionship of  Susan  intensely.  She  wondered  how  it 
could  be  possible  for  an  utter  stranger  to  find  so  much 
to  talk  about.  She  did  not  resent  being  questioned.  In 
fact,  she  was  not  conscious  that  she  was  being  catechised. 
She  wondered  whether  she  might  venture  to  say  some- 
thing about  the  Collins  family,  she  didn't  know  quite 
what.  While  she  was  silently  thinking  over  this  problem, 
her  face  wore  a  smile  which  betokened  her  interest  in  her 
questioner,  as  well  as  a  real  liking  for  her. 

Susan  waited  only  a  little  while  for  Asenath  to  say 
something  and  then  went  on  to  ask: 

"  How  many  are  there  in  your  family?  " 

"Just  papa,  mamma  and  me." 

"No  wonder  your  mother  can  make  your  clothes.  Do 
you  have  to  work?" 

"Yes — no — I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  I  mean  do  your  folks  need  the  money." 

"  I  don't  know,  I  give  mamma  my  wages." 

"What's  your  father  do?  Has  he  a  business?" 

"No.  He's  a  foreman  in  Harrison  &  Magee's." 


16  THE    CHOICE 

"Where  do  you  live?" 

"On  Bancroft  Street  near  Porter." 

"Oh!  That's  a  lovely  neighborhood.  Your  folks  must 
be  rich." 

"Oh  no,  we  ain't;  we're  poor,  of  course  not  awful  poor, 
but,  you  know — " 

The  conversation  paused.  Susan  was  very  much 
impressed  with  her  companion.  She  was  not  conscious, 
on  her  part,  of  the  fact  that  the  whole  talk  thus  far  had 
been  like  taking  testimony  on  the  witness  stand.  The 
closer  she  came  to  Asenath,  the  more  beautiful  she  found 
her.  She  could  not  have  explained  the  reasons  for  her 
great  interest,  but  she  felt  it.  After  a  short  monologue, 
treating  of  their  lunch  and  the  lunch  room,  she  again 
became  personal.  She  said: 

"You're  awful  pretty." 

Asenath  was  delighted  and  uncomfortable  at  the 
same  time.  She  felt  it  incumbent  upon  her  to  make  some 
sort  of  disclaimer. 

"Oh!  no,  I'm  not,"  was  the  best  she  could  do;  "there's 
lots  of  girls  here  who  are  much  prettier." 

"Rats,"  said  Susan,  "there  ain't  one  in  your  class. 
What  does  HE  say  about  it?" 

"He?" 

"Yes;  'He,'  you  know  what  I  mean?" 

"No,  I  don't." 

"Ain't  you  got  a  fella?" 

"No." 


THE    CHOICE  17 

"Honest?" 

"Honest." 

"How's  that?  Don't  you  like  fellas?" 

"I  don't  know  any." 

"How's  that?" 

"Papa  never  let  me  go  with  any  boys.  He  said  I  was 
too  young." 

"But  you  ain't  too  young  now,  are  you?" 

"I  guess  not,  but  I  don't  know  any  except  some  boys 
who  go  to  our  church." 

"What's  the  matter  with  them?" 

"Oh!  I  don't  know.  I  don't  like  'em." 

"Do  you  ever  talk  to  'em?" 

"No." 

"  I  know  a  boy,  he's  a  dandy  fella;  you'd  be  just  crazy 
about  him  and  he's  the  kind  that'd  just  fall  for  you.  His 
name's  Tom  Holland.  He  works  down  at  the  big  saw 
works,  you  know.  He's  awful  liberal.  If  you  go  out 
with  him,  you're  sure  to  have  a  good  time.  He's  no  piker. 
And  funny!  I  just  kill  myself  laughing  at  him.  He  always 
goes  with  Bill  Purton,  they're  chums;  you  never  saw  two 
fellas  that  was  as  thick  as  they  are.  Bill's  my  fella.  I'd 
love  you  to  meet  them.  My  goodness,  it's  one  o'clock 
already.  Back  to  the  mines." 

She  got  up  and  left.  Asenath  followed  her.  She  had 
never  enjoyed  herself  more.  Susan's  breeziness,  her 
volubility  were  charming.  She  looked  forward  to  their 
next  meeting  with  desire.  This  was  life  indeed. 


18  THE    CHOICE 

At  her  work  during  the  whole  afternoon,  the  under- 
current of  her  mind  carried  the  memory  of  this  most 
delightful  adventure.  For  to  Asenath  this  meeting  was 
an  adventure.  Dimly  she  felt  that  it  was  the  beginning 
of  a  new  life,  a  life  in  which  joy  should  have  the  master- 
role.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  now  finally  put  off 
childhood  and  had  really  become  what  she  herself  would 
have  called  "a  young  lady." 

These  were  not  definite,  clean-cut  impressions,  but 
vague  incidents  of  her  sense  of  joy,  her  feeling  of  freedom 
of  emancipation  from  the  yoke  of  her  parents'  authority. 
It  was  not  that  she  had  ever  been  in  active  rebellion 
against  their  decrees.  On  the  contrary,  she  had  been 
quite  content  to  accept  their  rulings  because  her  imagi- 
nation did  not  carry  her  beyond  them. 

She  had  not  even  chosen  her  position  with  the  Tele- 
phone Company.  That  was  her  father's  choice.  McBride's 
most  intimate  friend  had  a  daughter  so  employed  and 
his  recommendation  was  so  strong  that  Asenath  was 
simply  told  to  apply  for  the  position.  McBride  felt  that 
she  would  be  sheltered,  saved  from  contact  with  the  mix- 
ture of  sexes  common  to  most  business  offices.  Asenath 
made  her  application,  was  easily  able  to  meet  the  require- 
ments, as  has  already  been  told,  and  was  promptly  given 
what  was  considered  a  desirable  position  for  a  beginner. 

That  evening  as  she  helped  her  mother  with  the  dishes, 
she  interrupted  the  placid  flow  of  that  lady's  account  of 
the  day's  events  by  asking  this  startling  question: 


THE    CHOICE  19 

"Mamma,  ain't  I  old  enough  to  have  company?" 

"What  kind  of  company?"  inquired  Mrs.  McBride, 
with  a  reasonable  show  of  caution. 

"Boys,"  answered  Asenath. 

"  What  boys?  "  asked  her  mother,  still  on  caution  bent. 

"Oh!  No  boys  in  particular.  You  know  I  don't  know 
any  boys  except  them  that  come  to  Sunday  School  and 
they  make  me  sick." 

"Well,  if  you  don't  know  any  boys  to  have  for  com- 
pany, what  makes  you  ask  about  it?" 

"  I  was  just  thinking  about  it.  Suppose  I  should  get 
an  introduction  to  some  nice  fella.  I'd  feel  awful  cheap 
if  I  couldn't  ask  him  to  call." 

"That's  so,"  assented  her  mother  thoughtfully.  "I'll 
speak  to  your  father  about  it." 

Asenath  did  not  press  the  matter  further  at  that  time. 
Although  it  was  of  the  greatest  possible  moment  to  her, 
it  did  not  prey  on  her  mind.  She  was  never  ardent  in  any 
pursuit.  As  much  as  anything  in  the  world,  at  that 
moment,  did  she  desire  her  parents'  recognition  of  the 
fact  that  she  was  grown  up,  and  she  felt  that  there  could 
be  no  surer  indication  of  it  than  the  grant  of  liberty  to 
receive  callers  of  the  other  sex.  Having  broached  the 
subject  to  her  mother,  and  having  that  lady's  promise  to 
discuss  it  with  her  husband,  Asenath  was  entirely  con- 
tent to  await  further  developments.  And  this  waiting 
wad  unaccompanied  by  any  thought  of  future  action 
based  on  either  a  favorable  or  an  unfavorable  reception 


20  THE    CHOICE 

of  her  petition.  It  was  simply  set  aside  until  further 
developments  should  call  for  renewed  attention. 

Mrs.  McBride  spoke  to  her  husband  on  the  subject 
that  night  and,  in  the  morning,  communicated  the 
result  to  Asenath. 

"Your  father  says  it'll  be  all  right  for  you  to  have 
boys  come  to  see  you,  only  they  must  be  somebody  he 
knows." 

Asenath  was  taken  aback.  She  felt  that  she  was 
"grown  up"  and  entitled  to  choose  for  herself.  This  did 
not  seem  fair. 

"But,  mamma,"  she  said,  "suppose  I  get  an  intro- 
duction to  a  boy  who's  all  right  and  papa  don't  know 
him;  what  good  does  it  do?" 

"That's  so,"  answered  Mrs.  McBride.  She  was  per- 
plexed. There  seemed  to  be  something  not  quite  right 
about  the  matter  as  it  stood,  but  she  was  unable  to  see 
just  what  it  was.  In  speaking  with  her  husband,  his  pres- 
entation of  the  case  had  seemed  perfectly  clear  and 
convincing. 

"I  can't  invite  him,"  Asenath  went  on,  "and  if  he 
can't  come  here,  how  is  papa  going  to  find  out  if  he's  all 
right?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"I  couldn't  tell  him  I'd  like  to  have  him  come  only 
my  father  won't  let  me  ask  him  because  he  don't  know 
him,  could  I?" 

"No,  I  guess  not,"  answered  Mrs.  McBride,  doubt- 


THE    CHOICE  21 

fully.  And  then  she  was  seized  with  an  inspiration. 
"Assy,"  she  said,  "what's  the  use  bothering  about  this? 
You  don't  know  anyone  you  want  to  invite,  so  you  might 
as  well  wait  until  you  do."  She  delivered  herself  of  this 
with  an  air  of  finality  which  betokened  her  complete 
satisfaction  with  her  solution  of  the  problem. 

But  Asenath  was  not  satisfied.  What  she  wanted  was 
a  recognition  of  her  right  as  a  "grown-up"  to  cast  off 
the  parental  leading  strings.  She  did  not  know  just  what 
answer  to  make  to  her  mother.  It  did  not  occur  to  her 
that  the  fact  that  she  was  at  work  and  was  contributing 
her  pay  to  the  family  exchequer  might  give  her  some 
right  to  a  voice  in  her  own  affairs.  She  had  a  somewhat 
vague  sense  that  she  was  being  treated  unjustly,  but  no 
words  came  to  her  to  formulate  it.  So  she  let  the  matter 
drop  out  of  their  present  conversation. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  friendship  between  Asenath  and  Susan 
ripened  with  extraordinary  rapidity.  They  were 
together  every  day  at  lunch,  and,  in  a  few  days, 
Susan  was  acquainted  with  every  detail  of  Asenath's 
life  for  which  her  imagination  had  found  questions. 
Asenath  had  answered  every  one  of  them  with  perfect 
candor,  so  much  pleased  with  the  intimacy  of  their  com- 
panionship that  reserve  of  any  kind  never  occurred  to 
her.  Asenath  had  never  before  had  a  real  friend,  or 
what  she  thought  was  a  real  friend,  which,  after  all, 
amounts  to  the  same  thing. 

It  never  occurred  to  her  to  ask  Susan  any  questions  of 
either  a  personal  or  a  general  nature.  In  the  first  place, 
her  curiosity  was  not  sufficiently  specific,  and  in  the 
second,  it  was  not  necessary.  Susan  was  not  at  all  reti- 
cent. She  told  of  her  life  with  the  same  freedom  that  she 
displayed  in  questioning  Asenath.  And  so,  without  any 
effort,  Asenath  learned  much  about  the  Collins  family, 
which  she  found  interesting  in  a  general  way,  and  a 
great  deal  more  concerning  Susan's  relations  with  the 
other  sex,  which  she  found  absorbing  in  the  highest 
degree.  Susan,  it  may  be  observed,  did  not  consider  her- 
self to  be  subject  to  strict  accuracy  in  her  accounts, 
whether  they  dealt  with  family  life  or  her  "fellas."  With 
regard  to  the  latter,  she  was  careful  to  suppress  certain 

22 


THE    CHOICE  23 

details  which  she  felt  might  produce  some  unnecessary 
shock  to  the  sensibilities  of  so  unsophisticated  a  person 
as  Asenath. 

Susan  had  not  shown  much  surprise  when  she  learned 
that  Asenath  was  not  permitted  to  receive  young  men 
as  callers  unless  they  were  acquaintances  of  McBride. 
She  did  not  receive  callers  herself.  In  the  first  place,  the 
Collins  household  was  not  an  ideal  place  for  a  young 
lady  to  receive  them,  and,  in  the  second,  Susan's  friends 
generally  met  her  by  appointment  outside.  Her  social 
standards  were  not  difficult  in  this  respect. 

For  some  reason  or  other  Susan  held  Asenath  some- 
what in  awe.  While  she  would  never  have  admitted  it 
to  anyone,  in  her  own  mind  she  felt  that  Asenath  was 
her  superior  in  the  social  scale.  She  represented  a  certain 
amount  of  family  solidarity  and  family  pride  which 
Susan  felt  rather  than  imagined.  Susan's  family  "camped 
out"  in  the  World.  There  was  no  strong  tie  binding  its 
members. 

Asenath  completely  charmed  Susan.  She  was  attracted 
by  her  beauty  to  begin  with,  and  interested  also  by  a 
certain  evasive  quality  in  Asenath  which  persisted  in 
spite  of  her  seeming  utter  frankness  in  answering  all  of 
Susan's  pointed  questions.  No  matter  what  effort  Susan 
made  to  learn  all  about  her  new  friend,  there  seemed 
always  something  more  which  no  questioning  would 
bring  out. 

Her  admiration  of  Asenath  made  her  anxious  to  have 


24  THE    CHOICE 

some  of  her  friends  meet  her.  She  wanted  the  satisfac- 
tion that  the  confirmation  of  her  preference  would  bring 
and  the  further  satisfaction  that  she  would  have  in  intro- 
ducing a  girl  to  them  whom  they  would  describe  as  a 
"real  queen."  This  title  for  Asenath,  by  the  way,  had 
occurred  to  Susan  almost  at  once,  and  she  had  promptly 
called  her  "Queenie"  and  always  so  addressed  her. 

Without  disclosing  her  intention  to  Asenath,  Susan 
had  arranged  with  Tom  Holland  to  have  him  await  their 
departure  from  the  telephone  exchange  one  evening 
shortly  after  their  acquaintance  first  began. 

It  had  been  a  mild  spring  day,  just  warm  enough  to 
bring  assurance  that  winter  was  really  past.  And  now,  in 
the  twilight,  there  was  still  a  balmy  quality  in  the  breeze, 
although,  with  the  approach  of  dusk,  it  had  become 
much  cooler. 

Asenath  and  Susan  had  walked  only  half  a  block 
when  the  latter  espied  Tom  Holland  standing  at  the 
corner  of  the  next  street. 

"Why!  There's  Tom  Holland,"  she  said  with  an  air 
of  surprise. 

Asenath  looked  up  and  perceived  a  young  man  of 
about  twenty-one  or  two.  She  did  not  notice  that  he 
was  rather  an  unhealthy  looking  specimen,  somewhat 
pimply,  with  weak,  characterless  features.  She  did  not 
take  account  of  his  colorless  hair,  his  cheap  clothes, 
which  bore  the  unmistakable  stamp  of  the  flashy  ready- 
made  variety,  in  their  extravagant  attempt  at  modish- 


THE    CHOICE  25 

ness.  She  saw  only  the  Tom  Holland  of  Susan's  descrip- 
tion, the  dashing  cavalier,  generous  with  purse  and 
entertainment,  the  humorist,  the  "dandy  fella." 

As  they  approached  him,  he  turned  towards  them,  a 
smile  of  recognition  on  his  face. 

"Hello,  Kid,"  he  said,  addressing  Susan. 

"Hello,  Tom,"  she  answered  as  they  came  up.  "Meet 
my  friend,  Miss  McBride." 

"Happy  to  meet  you,"  said  Tom.  Asenath  did  not 
say  anything,  but  smiled  sweetly  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Susan,  keeping  up  the 
pretense  of  an  accidental  meeting.  Actually,  what  she 
said  sounded  like  "we'ere-ye-goin,"  but,  since  anattempt 
to  spell  the  sounds  she  made  phonetically  would  cause 
great  difficulty  in  reading  her  remarks,  we  shall  write 
instead  the  words  that  she  supposed  she  was  uttering. 
We  shall  follow  the  same  course  with  the  speeches  of  the 
others. 

"Nowhere  in  particular,"  answered  Tom.  "I'll  walk 
along  with  you,  if  you  don't  mind." 

"Surest  thing  you  know,"  said  Susan  to  him,  and  then 
turning  to  Asenath,  "How  about  it,  Queenie?" 

"All  right,"  said  Asenath,  "but  I'm  only  going  two 
blocks  further.  I  take  the  car  there,  you  know." 

"You  mean  your  motor,  don't  you?"  asked  Tom. 

Susan  laughed  in  appreciation  of  his  humor,  but 
Asenath  said: 

"No,  the  trolley." 


26  THECHOICE 

Tom  was  not  sure  whether  or  not  Asenath  was  putting 
the  joke  on  him.  He  concluded  promptly  that  she  was 
and  said: 

"You're  a  pretty  good  little  kidder  yourself,  ain't 
you?" 

Asenath  smiled  demurely.  No  one  had  ever  said  any- 
thing like  this  to  her  before,  so  she  made  no  other 
acknowledgment  of  what  was  obviously  intended  as  a 
compliment. 

"  I  guess  you  don't  care  for  dancing,"  hazarded  Tom. 

"I  love  it,"  answered  Asenath,  "but  I  don't  know 
much  about  it  yet.  I've  only  tried  it  a  couple  of  times." 

Susan  had  been  teaching  her  some  steps  at  lunch 
time  and  had  found  her  an  extraordinarily  apt  pupil. 

"  How'd  you  like  to  go  out  with  me  some  evening  this 
week  and  try  it?" 

"I'd  love  to,"  answered  Asenath,  "but  I  don't  know 
if  I  could  get  permission." 

Susan  broke  in  here,  "Don't  go  rushing  her,  Tom. 
Wait  until  I've  been  up  to  her  house.  I'll  fix  it  with  her 
dad.  Won't  I,  Queenie?" 

"I  hope  so,"  answered  Asenath.  "Oh!  There's  my  car. 
Good-bye,"  and  away  she  ran. 

"What  do  you  think  of  her?"  Susan  asked. 

"She's  some  kid.  She's  a  peacherino,"  answered  Tom. 
"She's  a  winner.  Gee!  but  she's  got  style." 

"Yes,  and  don't  you  get  fresh  with  her,  either.  She 
ain't  that  kind.  She's  a  lovely  girl,  the  kind  it  does  you 


THE    CHOICE  27 

good  to  know.  She  don't  say  much,  but  she  thinks  a  lot. 
You  can  learn  good  manners  from  her." 

"Oh!  I  don't  know,"  said  Tom  in  a  tone  evidencing 
complete  self-satisfaction.  He  was  not  noted  for  humil- 
ity. He  was  in  no  doubt  whatever  as  to  his  qualifications 
as  a  squire  of  dames.  At  twenty-one  or  two,  one  is  apt 
not  to  underestimate  one's  attractions  for  the  fair. 
He  did  not  enjoy  even  the  slight  tinge  of  criticism 
which  was  implied  in  Susan's  remark  and  his  manner 
showed  it. 

"Now,  don't  get  sore,"  said  Susan,  "you  ain't  such  a 
much.  There  are  others.  When  did  you  see  Bill  last?" 

"This  morning,"  answered  Tom.  "He's  got  to  work 
tonight." 

"Honest?  That's  the  third  time  in  a  week.  He'd 
better  get  another  job.  Well,  so  long,  here's  my  car." 
And  she  left  him. 

Asenath  believed  that  she  admired  Tom  Holland. 
Certainly  she  had  enjoyed  the  few  minutes  she  had 
spent  in  his  company  and  she  looked  forward  to  meeting 
him  again  with  more  interest  than  she  had  ever  had  in 
anything  which  had  come  into  her  life.  She  was  much 
impressed  by  his  evident  admiration  and  found  it  very 
sweet.  Vaguely,  she  wondered  how  Susan  was  going  to 
secure  permission  for  her  to  go  out  in  the  evening,  but 
no  solution  of  the  problem  came  to  her.  She  had,  how- 
ever, no  doubt  as  to  Susan's  ability  to  do  anything.  She 
rated  Susan  on  the  basis  of  that  young  woman's  ready 


28  THE    CHOICE 

professions.  She  had  never  met  anyone  who  was  so 
voluble.  She  would  have  pronounced  Susan  brilliant  if 
she  had  known  the  word  in  this  connection. 

Susan's  scheme  was  simplicity  itself  and  did  great 
credit  to  her  perspicacity. 

The  very  next  evening  Susan,  on  her  own  invitation, 
went  home  to  supper  with  Asenath.  Mrs.  McBride  wel- 
comed her  and  the  head  of  the  family  suffered  her  in 
silence  until  the  first  edge  of  his  fine  appetite  was  worn 
off.  Then  he  asked: 

"What  church  do  you  attend?" 

"Why,  Mr. McBride,  I'm  ashamed  to  tell  you  that  we 
don't  go  to  any."  Susan  acted  her  shame  well.  It  was 
overdone  in  no  particular. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  none  of  you  ever  go  to  church  at 
all?"  asked  Mr.  McBride,  sternly. 

"No;  not  altogether,"  answered  Susan.  "Mother  has 
gone  once  or  twice  since  I've  been  old  enough  to  take 
notice.  She'd  go  all  right,  but  my  father  won't  let  her. 
I'd  love  to  go;  I  don't  think  it's  right  to  grow  up  without 
any  religion.  I  would  go,  too,  but  I  don't  know  where  to 
go.  I'd  feel  strange  going  into  a  church  where  I  didn't 
know  anybody." 

Mr.  McBride  was  much  interested.  Here  was  good 
work  ready  for  his  hand. 

"What  is  your  name?"  he  asked. 

"Sue — Susan,"  she  answered.  "Susan  Collins." 

"Well,  Susan,  how  would  you  like  to  come  to  our 


THE    CHOICE  29 

church — the  Second  Presbyterian,  Halstead  and  Prince 
Streets." 

"Oh!  I'd  love  to." 

"Well,  come  Sunday,  day  after  tomorrow.  You  be 
here  at  half-past  ten  and  go  with  us.*' 

And  so  it  was  arranged  and  so  was  it  carried  out. 
Susan  was  on  hand  promptly.  She  walked  to  church 
with  McBride  and  Asenath.  McBride  improved  the 
occasion  to  air  his  views.  He  was  stimulated  to  extraor- 
dinary efforts  by  the  evident  sympathy  and  appreciation 
of  his  listener.  Susan's  attention  to  the  services  and  her 
demeanor  throughout  the  morning  completely  won  him. 
He  asked  her,  nay,  insisted  that  she  go  home  to  dinner 
with  them  and  return  to  Sunday  School  in  the  afternoon 
with  Asenath.  Susan  accepted  with  a  show  of  reluctance 
she  was  far  from  feeling.  Actually  she  was  enjoying 
herself  immensely — not  her  attendance  at  church  and 
Sunday  School  on  account  of  any  great  interest  in  either, 
but  she  enjoyed  the  evident  success  of  her  acting. 

At  the  dinner  table  it  was  an  easy  matter  for  Susan 
to  obtain  McBride's  consent  for  a  visit  from  Asenath 
to  Susan's  house.  He  was  so  much  pleased  with  his 
success  in  "rescuing  a  brand  from  the  burning"  that  he 
would  actually  have  trusted  his  convert  with  anything. 


CHAPTER  IV 

SUSAN  did  not  make  a  definite  appointment  for 
Asenath's  visit  to  her  at  the  time  that  the  per- 
mission was  granted.  She  did  not  want  to  appear 
to  have  any  ulterior  motive  in  her  association  with  the 
McBride  family.  She  wanted,  besides,  to  make  so  sure 
of  McBride's  confidence  in  her  that  he  would  not  be 
ready  to  believe  anyone  who  might  be  moved  to  say 
something  in  her  disfavor.  And  then,  she  actually 
enjoyed  her  conquest  of  McBride,  in  which  there  was 
not  a  little  coquetry.  After  all,  he  was  a  man  and  there- 
fore to  be  won. 

On  Wednesday  evening  and  again  on  Sunday  she 
appeared  at  church.  Her  tact  won  for  her  much  favor- 
able notice,  and  quite  a  number  of  the  regular  attend- 
ants made  her  acquaintance  and  liked  her.  Although  she 
did  not  lose  sight  of  her  original  object,  she  began  to  feel 
the  great  social  advantage  the  church  offered  and  found 
herself  looking  forward  with  pleasure  to  becoming  a 
regular  attendant. 

On  the  second  Tuesday  after  her  first  visit  to  McBride's, 
Asenath  was  to  go  to  Collins'  for  the  evening  meal.  At 
least,  that  was  what  had  been  announced,  and  was  what 
Asenath  believed.  It  was  understood  that  she  was  to  be 
home  early.  Susan  had  not  told  her  anything  more  than 
she  expected  they  would  see  Tom  and  Bill,  with  which 

30 


THE    CHOICE  31 

information  Asenath  was  much  pleased.  She  did  not  tell 
her  mother  of  this  aspect  of  the  evening's  entertain- 
ment, because  she  knew  she  would  discuss  it  with  her 
husband  and  she  could  not  determine  whether  he  might 
not  offer  objections.  But  it  was  only  for  a  moment  that 
she  even  considered  mentioning  it  to  her  mother.  It 
opened  up  too  many  possibilities  and  would  have  called 
for  an  amount  of  contemplation  which  Asenath  would 
have  found  tedious.  It  was  ever  so  much  more  comfort- 
able to  let  things  happen  than  to  think  about  them. 

Directly  after  she  and  Susan  had  left  the  telephone 
exchange  on  Tuesday  evening,  they  met  the  two  boys. 
William  Purton  was  a  rather  heavy,  serious-looking 
young  man  of  about  twenty-two.  He  was  quite  the 
opposite  of  his  friend  Holland  in  appearance.  He  looked 
to  be  more  nearly  mature.  There  was  no  suggestion  of 
speed  in  any  part  of  his  visible  make-up.  He  acknowl- 
edged his  introduction  to  Asenath  with  a  friendly  nod, 
while,  on  her  part,  a  smile  and  an  outstretched  hand 
completed  the  ceremony. 

The  quartet  promptly  broke  up  into  pairs,  Tom  and 
Asenath  in  the  lead,  and  walked  down  the  street.  At  the 
first  crossing,  Tom  said: 

"  What  do  you  say  to.taking  in  a  'movie'  until  supper? ' ' 

"All  right,"  answered  Asenath. 

They  waited  for  the  others  to  come  up.  Tom  made  the 
proposal  to  them  also  and  it  was  immediately  accepted. 

The  picture  they  saw  told  a  highly  improbable  story, 


32  THE    CHOICE 

one  in  which  the  very  special  morality  of  the  scenario 
was  strongly  emphasized,  a  morality  Jesuitical  in  the 
extreme,  in  its  constant  approval  of  any  means  which 
might  procure  the  desired  end.  But  to  Asenath,  who  had 
seen  very  little  of  moving  pictures,  had  read  no  books, 
and  whose  actual  experiences  of  life  were  limited  both 
by  circumstance  and  the  quality  of  her  imagination,  the 
story  was  real  and  the  illusion  complete.  She  was  so  fas- 
cinated, so  thoroughly  held  by  the  picture  that  she  was 
scarcely  aware  that  Tom  had  taken  hold  of  her  hand. 
A  sudden  break  in  the  film,  with  its  shock  of  surprise, 
brought  it  fully  into  her  consciousness  and  then,  before 
she  had  a  chance  to  act  with  purpose,  she  withdrew  it 
from  his  clasp  sharply. 

No  sooner  had  she  done  so  than  she  was  sorry.  She 
found  that  she  liked  to  have  him  hold  her  hand.  But, 
even  in  the  face  of  this  discovery,  Asenath  was  so  consti- 
tuted that  she  could  not  make  a  new  beginning  in  this 
or,  in  fact,  any  other  direction.  As  for  Tom,  he  was 
sure  that  the  sudden  withdrawal  meant  displeasure  on 
Asenath's  part  and,  in  her  presence,  for  some  reason 
which  he  could  not  explain,  his  ordinary  assurance  was 
much  less  than  usual. 

They  sat  through  the  picture  without  any  further 
advances  from  Tom.  Occasionally  he  would  whisper 
some  remark,  intended  to  be  facetious,  concerning  the 
characters  and  incidents  on  the  screen,  but  Asenath 
scarcely  heard  him. 


THE    CHOICE  33 

When  the  hero  and  heroine  of  the  picture,  locked  in  a 
close  embrace,  finally  faded  from  sight,  the  quartet  left 
the  theatre.  In  the  street,  there  was  a  short  discussion  as 
to  where  they  would  eat,  and  it  was  then,  for  the  first 
time,  that  Asenath  learned  that  they  were  not  to  eat  at 
Collins'.  The  idea  of  going  to  a  restaurant  delighted  her, 
for  her  experience  of  them  was  practically  nil,  and  her 
pleasure  was  in  no  way  diminished  when  she  learned 
that  the  choice  finally  rested  on  a  cheap  lunch  place  in 
which  various  kinds  of  griddle-cakes  appeared  to  be  of 
the  greatest  importance  in  the  menu,  a  conclusion  based 
upon  the  fact  that  they  were  cooked  in  the  show  window 
by  a  man  attired  in  spotless  white. 

The  choice  having  been  made,  the  party  again  broke 
up  into  couples  and  walked  down  the  street.  Asenath 
was  with  Tom.  Conversation  began  immediately.  Tom 
said: 

"Wasn't  that  fellow  a  nut  to  let  himself  get  all  tied 
up  like  that?  If  he'd  a  thought  for  a  minute,  he'd  a  been 
on  to  the  villain's  game." 

"Yes,"  said  Asenath,  but  she  did  not  agree  with  him. 
To  her  the  hero  of  the  story  was  simply  perfect. 

"Well,  I  ain't  crazy  about  those  kind  of  pictures, 
anyway.  I  like  Charlie  Chaplin,  don't  you?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  answered  Asenath,  firmly. 

"Honest?  Why,  I  kill  myself  laughing  at  Charlie. 
Why  don't  you  like  him?" 

"Oh!  He  acts  so  crazy." 


34  THE    CHOICE 

"But  don't  you  think  he's  a  scream?  Don't  you 
laugh  at  him?" 

"Of  course,  I  laugh  at  him;  you  can't  help  it,  he's  so 
simple.  But  I  don't  like  him." 

"I  can't  see  that.  Don't  you  like  to  laugh?" 

This  was  a  hard  question,  much  more  difficult  than 
either  of  them  imagined. 

"Yes,  I  like  to  laugh,"  said  Asenath  after  a  brief 
pause,  "but  I  don't  like  Charlie  Chaplin." 

They  had  reached  the  restaurant  by  this  time  and 
Asenath  was  saved  from  the  necessity  of  explaining  the 
inconsistency  of  her  last  remark. 

They  were  very  jolly  during  the  meal,  that  is,  all  but 
Asenath.  She  did  not  participate  in  the  good  natured 
banter  which  formed  their  table  talk.  Even  though  she 
made  no  contribution  to  the  general  gaiety,  she  enjoyed 
herself  thoroughly  and  joined  in  their  good  humored 
laughter  rather  through  sympathy  than  because  of  her 
understanding  of  their  sallies.  Much  of  their  talk  con- 
cerned matters  entirely  outside  of  her  experience.  Once, 
when  Tom  ventured  a  little  beyond  the  bounds  of  strict 
decency  in  one  of  his  allusions,  Susan  cut  him  short  with 
a  meaning  look.  Her  caution,  however,  was  quite  unnec- 
essary, for  it  was  all  going  quite  over  Asenath's  head. 

After  supper,  dancing  was  proposed  and  it  was  sug- 
gested that  they  go  to  McGoverns',  where  Tom  said 
they  could  have  a  private  room  with  a  Victrola  and  do 
just  what  they  liked.  This  was  perfectly  satisfactory  to 


THECHOICE  35 

Asenath,  who  was  utterly  without  any  standards  to 
guide  her. 

They  left  the  restaurant  and  walked  a  few  blocks  to 
McGoverns'. 

This  proved  to  be  a  large  saloon  with  a  number  of 
private  rooms  on  the  second  floor.  They  chose  a  room  of 
fair  size  which  contained  a  Victrola,  moved  the  table 
from  the  centre  of  the  room,  and,  in  response  to  the 
waiter's  inquiry  as  to  what  they  would  have  to  drink, 
entered  into  a  discussion  of  this  question.  The  two  boys 
promptly  decided  for  high-balls  and  Susan  chose  a  dry 
Martini.  Asenath  made  no  choice  at  all. 

"What  would  you  like,  Queenie?"  asked  Susan. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  take,"  answered  Asenath. 
"  Oh !  Yes,  I  like  Sarsaparilla."  She  called  it  Sassaparella. 

"Oh!  You  don't  want  that  stuff,"  said  Susan.  "Order 
a  Bronx." 

"What's  a  'Bronx'?"  asked  Asenath. 

"  It's  a  cocktail,"  answered  Susan. 

Asenath  had  heard  of  cocktails  but  had  no  clear  idea 
of  what  they  might  be.  Her  knowledge  of  intoxicating 
drinks  was,  naturally,  extremely  limited.  She  knew  that 
beer,  whisky,  wine  and  rum  were  such  things,  particu- 
larly rum.  She  had  seen  drunken  men  and  women  and 
knew  in  a  vague  way  how  they  became  so,  but  the  whole 
matter  was  so  far  removed  from  her  own  life  that  it 
possessed  no  interest  or  curiosity  for  her.  None  of  the 
names  of  the  drinks  ordered  by  the  others  was  familiar 


36  THE    CHOICE 

to  her  and,  therefore,  she  had  no  idea  of  what  they  might 
be  or  indeed  that  they  were  in  the  classification  of 
strong  drink. 

So,  when  she  heard  Susan's  unenlightening  definition 
of  a  Bronx,  she  nodded  her  acquiescence,  and  the  waiter 
departed.  She  was  in  a  state  of  complete  contentment 
and  was  ready  to  accept  anything  which  seemed  to 
form  part  of  the  evening's  entertainment. 

The  Victrola  was  put  into  action  and  they  danced. 
Tom  found  that  Asenath  had  indeed  profited  by  her 
practice  with  Susan.  She  danced  as  naturally  as  she 
breathed.  He  was  delighted  and  she  tasted  joy  such  as 
she  had  never  known. 

When  Asenath  put  the  cocktail  to  her  lips,  she  was  not 
sure  that  its  taste  was  agreeable.  A  second  sip  proved  to 
be  more  palatable  and  the  third  was  distinctly  pleasant. 
She  was  thirsty  and  felt  much  refreshed  when  she  had 
drunk  all  of  it.  She  wanted  to  dance  again,  and  the  others 
were  quite  willing. 

They  put  on  another  record  and  began  again.  And 
then  another.  After  this,  Asenath  suggested  that  they 
dance  again  immediately. 

"Oh!  Let's  rest  a  bit,"  said  Susan. 

"Tom,"  said  Asenath,  addressing  him  by  name  for 
the  first  time,  "let's  you  and  I  dance  then."  She  was 
conscious  of  something  new  in  her,  a  quality  of  initiative, 
a  recklessness  she  had  never  known.  She  was  deliriously 
happy.  Everything  was  blotted  out  of  her  mind  save 


THE    CHOICE  37 

only  her  present  joy.  She,  the  most  undemonstrative 
person  imaginable,  wanted  to  sing.  And  she  did  hum  the 
tune  as  they  danced  together.  Tom  was  clasping  her 
very  closely.  He  held  the  fingers  of  her  right  hand  gripped 
tightly,  and  Asenath  returned  the  pressure  without 
knowing  it. 

And  then  she  felt  herself  becoming  dizzy.  She  closed 
her  eyes  and  the  whole  room  seemed  to  be  turning  about 
her.  She  felt  that  she  would  have  fallen  were  it  not  for 
the  support  of  Tom's  arms. 

When  they  stopped  dancing,  Tom  led  her  to  a  window. 
He  stood  with  his  arm  about  her  waist,  her  head  resting 
on  his  shoulder.  She  began  to  feel  sick;  a  sensation  of 
nausea  was  coming  over  her  which  she  struggled  to  mas- 
ter. And,  just  then  Tom  made  a  movement. 

She  knew  instantly  that  he  was  going  to  kiss  her,  and 
she  wanted  him  to  do  it.  He  took  his  arm  from  her 
waist  and,  holding  her  face  in  both  of  his  hands,  brought 
it  towards  his  slowly. 

And  then,  a  sudden  violent  wave  of  nausea  over- 
whelmed her.  She  felt  that  in  one  instant  more  she 
would  be  unable  to  control  herself,  and,  breaking  from 
him,  she  ran  away,  out  of  the  room,  down  the  stairs,  up 
the  brilliantly  illuminated  street  until  she  came  to  a 
dark  alley. 

When  Asenath  had  recovered  her  physical  equilib- 
rium, she  was  overcome  by  a  fearful  sense  of  shame. 
She  felt  that  she  was  forever  disgraced  in  the  eyes  of  her 


38  THE    CHOICE 

companions.  She  was  sure  that  they  would  not  wish  to 
have  anything  more  to  do  with  her.  It  was  impossible 
for  her  to  blame  them  for  their  attitude,  or  what  she 
believed  must  be  their  attitude. 

If  she  had  attempted  to  state  precisely  just  what  she 
had  done  to  incur  their  displeasure,  she  would  have 
found  it  impossible.  But  no  clear-cut  statement  would 
have  been  one  iota  more  convincing  than  the  emotion 
which  mastered  her. 

For  one  brief  moment  she  entertained  the  idea  of 
rejoining  her  companions.  But  it  was  only  for  a  moment. 
She  felt  that  she  would  have  to  make  some  explanation, 
and  that  she  could  not  do.  She  did  not  know  what  to 
explain.  It  certainly  would  never  do  just  to  say  that  she 
had  felt  sick  and  had  run  away  because  she  could  not 
think  of  anything  else  to  do.  That  would  be  too  babyish, 
quite  unsuited  to  what  she  looked  upon  as  the  complete 
maturity  of  Susan  and  the  two  boys.  At  any  rate,  they 
were  probably  glad,  now,  that  she  had  so  soon  shown 
her  unfitness  to  associate  with  them. 

Well,  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  go  home. 
Susan  would  undoubtedly  bring  the  light  jacket,  which 
Asenath  had  left  behind  her  in  her  flight,  to  the  tele- 
phone exchange  the  next  morning.  Asenath  had  no  need 
of  its, protection,  for  the  evening  was  quite  mild;  it  was 
the  latter  part  of  May,  and  going  through  the  streets 
without  it  would  not  attract  any  attention.  Still,  she  did 
not  care  to  get  into  a  car  and,  therefore,  walked  home. 


THE    CHOICE  39 

As  she  walked,  she  tried  to  decide  upon  the  form  that 
her  apology  to  Susan  would  take  if,  indeed,  her  friend 
would  listen  to  her  at  all.  No  more  difficult  problem  had 
ever  presented  itself  to  Asenath  and,  try  as  she  would, 
no  suitable  solution  offered  itself. 


CHAPTER  V 

WHEN  Asenath  made  her  sudden  break  from 
Susan  and  the  two  boys,  the  whole  trio  were 
too  much  surprised  to  make  any  immediate 
comment. 

Tom  was  the  first  to  find  speech.  He  said: 

"Well,  I  call  that  pretty  raw." 

Susan  was  up  in  arms  at  once.  She  was  furious. 

"Raw!"  she  almost  shouted.  "Raw!  If  there's  any- 
body that's  raw,  it's  you,  Tom  Holland.  It  just  serves 
me  right.  Introducing  a  lady  like  Queenie  to  a  bum  like 
you.  Yes,  bum,  that's  what  you  are.  You've  got  no  more 
idea  of  how  to  act  with  a  lady  than  I  don't  know  what. 
I  told  you  not  to  rush  her,  but,  you  poor  fish,  you  think 
that  every  girl's  just  ready  to  fall  for  you  and  so  you 
behave  just  as  though  you'd  picked  her  off  the  street." 

She  paused  for  breath,  and  taking  advantage  of  the 
opportunity,  Purton  began: 

"Say,  Sue,  it  ain't  all  Tom's  fault.  Didn't  she—" 

But  he  got  no  further.  Susan  interrupted  him  with 
renewed  fury. 

"That's  right.  Stick  up  for  him.  I  guess  you're  no 
better  than  he  is.  I'm  done  with  you.  Both  of  you. 
Don't  you  ever  dare  to  talk  to  me  again.  If  I  see  you  on 
the  street,  I  won't  know  you.  You  can  both  go  to  Hell, 
for  all  I  care." 

40 


THE    CHOICE  41 

And  Susan  picked  up  both  her  own  and  Asenath's 
jacket  and  strode  out  of  the  room. 

She  took  a  car  for  McBride's  house  and,  naturally, 
arrived  there  before  Asenath.  She  rang  the  bell  three 
times  without  effect,  and  then,  judging  correctly  that 
both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McBride  may  have  gone  out  for  a 
short  while,  she  sat  on  the  step  and  waited. 

She  was  calmer  now  and  in  no  doubt  as  to  what  she 
would  say  to  Asenath,  providing,  of  course,  that  she 
would  be  willing  to  listen  to  her.  She  hoped  that  hi  some 
way  she  could  repair  the  breach  that  she  felt  had 
undoubtedly  been  made  in  their  friendship.  She  was  sure 
that  she  had  done  a  very  wrong  thing  in  introducing  a 
girl  of  Asenath's  refinement  and  intelligence  to  a  boy 
like  Tom  Holland,  about  whose  ideas  with  regard  to 
what  he  slangily  designated  as  "skirts"  Susan  had  no 
illusions.  She  felt  that  her  real  intention  had  been  one  of 
kindness.  She  had  only  wished  to  show  Asenath  a  little 
bit  of  fun  and  had  imagined  that  Tom  would  have  appre- 
ciated the  difference  between  Asenath  and  the  girls  with 
whom  he  ordinarily  consorted,  and  not  transcend  the 
limits  of  decent  behavior. 

Susan  learned  in  those  moments  of  doubt  as  to  the 
continuance  of  her  friendship  with  Asenath  just  how 
much  that  friendship  meant  to  her.  She  could  not  have 
explained  it,  but  she  knew  that  she  wanted  this  above 
all  things. 

While  she  was  turning  this  matter  over  hi  her  mind 


42  THE    CHOICE 

for  perhaps  the  twentieth  time,  she  saw  Asenath  com- 
ing slowly  up  the  street.  Asenath  saw  her  at  the  same 
moment  and  would  have  hurried  towards  her,  but  she 
was  utterly  unprepared  for  the  meeting.  It  was  so  com- 
pletely unexpected  that  she  was  as  near  panic  as  she 
had  ever  been.  She  felt  that  she  must  say  something  in 
explanation  of  her  flight  and  she  had  been  unable  to 
think  of  anything  satisfactory. 

But  with  Susan  it  was  quite  different.  She  jumped 
up  from  the  step  and  ran  toward  Asenath. 

"Oh!  Queenie!"  she  cried,  "I'm  so  sorry.  I  had  no 
idea  that  Tom  Holland  would  act  so  raw.  I  just  stayed 
one  minute  after  you  left,  and  then  I  gave  him  an  ear- 
ful. Him  and  Bill,  too.  I'm  done  with  them  for  keeps. 
I  ought  to  have  known  better  than  to  introduce  you  to 
a  couple  of  fellas  like  them.  They're  not  your  kind  and 
they  ain't  going  to  be  my  kind  after  this.  I've  told  them 
they're  cut  out  by  me  for  good  and  all.  Oh!  Queenie, 
will  you  ever  forgive  me?"  And  Susan  looked  anxiously 
at  her  friend  for  some  sign  that  her  plea  had  been  favor- 
ably received. 

Asenath  was  nonplused.  She  simply  could  not  under- 
stand. It  would  appear  from  what  Susan  had  said  that 
she  had  done  nothing  to  estrange  Susan.  On  the  con- 
trary it  was  she  who  was  begging  Asenath's  pardon. 

She  could  not  concur  in  Susan's  condemnation  of  the 
two  boys.  To  Asenath  they  had  seemed  very  nice  and 
it  was  with  a  pang  of  regret  that  she  recognized  that 


THECHOICE  43 

the  turn  affairs  had  taken  would  rob  her  of  the  oppor- 
tunity for  further  meetings.  She  did  not  know  what  to 
say,  try  as  she  would  to  find  something.  So  she  walked 
along  with  Susan  to  the  house  without  answering. 

Susan  was  a  bit  disconcerted  by  Asenath's  silence, 
taking  it  as  an  indication  that  her  friend's  feelings  had 
been  too  deeply  wounded  to  permit  of  instant  forgive- 
ness. She  waited  for  a  little  while  and  then  could  hold 
her  peace  no  longer. 

"You're  not  really  mad  at  me,  are  you,  Queenie?" 
she  asked. 

"  Why,  no,"  answered  Asenath. "  I  was  only  thinking." 

"Thinking  about  what?"  asked  Susan. 

"Oh!  Just  thinking.  You  brought  my  coat,  didn't 
you?" 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  friendliness  of  the  tone. 
Susan  was  delighted. 

"Yes,  here  it  is." 

They  had  reached  the  door  of  the  McBride  house  by 
this  time. 

"I  rang  the  bell  three  times,"  said  Susan,  "but 
nobody  answered." 

"Oh!  I  guess  mamma  went  over  to  Aunt  Emma's  and 
this  is  papa's  lodge  night.  Mamma  will  likely  be  back 
soon." 

"Would  you  like  me  to  wait  until  she  comes  home?" 

"Yes,"  said  Asenath,  "or  we  could  go  over  to  Aunt 
Emma's.  She  lives  'round  the  corner." 


44  THE    CHOICE 

Just  then  they  espied  Mrs.  McBride  turning  the 
corner.  Susan  said: 

"I  wouldn't  say  anything  about  what  happened." 

"All  right,"  answered  Asenath,  "  I  won't." 

"Just  tell  her  we  went  home  to  supper  and  then 
walked  back  here.  You  can  make  up  enough  to  keep  her 
from  getting  on,  can't  you?  " 

"  I  guess  so,"  said  Asenath. 

Mrs.  McBride  had  come  up  to  them  by  this  time  and 
they  exchanged  greetings  and  a  little  talk  in  which  the 
clever  Susan  told  the  tale  of  their  doings  that  she  wished 
Mrs.  McBride  to  believe,  including  an  apology  for  the 
meal  which  Asenath  was  supposed  to  have  been  offered. 
She  took  advantage  of  this  apology  to  give  the  alleged 
menu  in  detail,  scenting  that  this  would  be  a  most 
natural  question  for  Mrs.  McBride  to  ask.  When  she 
left  them,  it  was  with  the  promise  to  meet  them  at 
church  the  following  evening. 

Asenath  was  thus  saved  the  necessity  of  inventing 
any  story,  a  task  which  would  have  exceeded  her  powers. 
And  Mrs.  McBride's  curiosity  as  to  the  visit  to  Collins' 
having  been  thus  satisfied,  she  was  left  free  to  talk  of 
what  she  had  in  her  mind  while  Asenath  listened 
silently,  her  thoughts  busy  with  her  delightful  expe- 
riences up  to  the  moment  of  her  flight. 

Susan  had  gone  to  church  at  first  merely  to  secure 
McBride's  good  will.  But,  as  has  been  mentioned,  she 
had  not  been  slow  to  perceive  what  a  powerful  social 


THE    CHOICE  45 

agency  the  church  was.  She  made  friends  rapidly 
because  she  had  a  pleasing  address.  She  was  friendly 
without  appearing  forward.  Her  ready  tongue  was  not 
often  used  to  make  the  less  articulate  uncomfortable. 
She  was  willing,  nay,  anxious  to  please,  and  she  found 
in  the  young  folks  who  attended  the  church  quite  a 
number  who  had  taken  a  fancy  to  her. 

On  the  Wednesday  evening  following,  she  had  been 
invited  to  visit  one  of  the  girls  and  had  accepted.  She 
did  not  have  a  chance  to  tell  Asenath  of  it  that  evening, 
for  the  McBrides,  contrary  to  their  usual  custom,  left 
immediately  after  the  services  were  over.  McBride  was 
suffering  from  a  bilious  attack  and  wanted  to  get  home 
as  soon  as  possible. 

At  lunch  on  Thursday  Susan  said  to  Asenath: 

"You  know  May  Wilson." 

"Sure,"  said  Asenath. 

"Do  you  like  her?" 

"She's  all  right.  I've  never  talked  much  to  her." 

"She  asked  me  to  come  to  see  her  at  her  house." 

Asenath  said  nothing.  So  Susan  went  on. 

"If  I  go,  will  you  go  with  me?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Asenath.  She  was  so  fond  of  Susan 
that  she  would  have  been  willing  to  go  anywhere  with 
her.  "When  are  you  going?" 

"Tomorrow  night,"  said  Susan.  "I  think  she's  awful 
nice.  She  ain't  terribly  pretty  and  she  ain't  much  for 
style,  but  she's  sweet.  Don't  you  think  so?" 


46  THE    CHOICE 

"Yes,"  answered  Asenath.  She  had  never  thought  of 
May  Wilson  at  all,  but  she  was  quite  willing  to  accept 
Susan's  opinion  as  final.  Susan  went  on: 

"I  can't  see  why  you  don't  care  for  the  crowd  at  the 
church.  I  think  some  of  them  are  lovely.  Why  is  it?" 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Asenath.  "I've  always 
been  going  there  ever  since  I  was  a  little  tot  and  I've 
grown  up  with  them.  Oh!  I  don't  know.  I  guess  they're 
all  right." 

"Maybe  it's  because  you  had  to  go.  That  makes  a  big 
difference." 

Susan's  approval  of  May  Wilson  and  the  expectation 
of  visiting  her  in  Susan's  company  were  responsible  for 
Asenath's  looking  forward  to  their  projected  call  with 
great  interest.  Neither  of  the  girls  considered  Asenath's 
going  without  an  invitation  as  any  infraction  of  the 
social  code. 


CHAPTER  VI 

MAY  WILSON  was  older  than  her  intending 
visitors.  She  was  no  longer  in  her  teens  and  had 
almost  reached  the  age  which  in  some  States 
would  have  made  her  eligible  to  cast  the  ballot.  The 
youngest  of  the  three  children  of  her  widowed  mother, 
she  alone  remained  at  home. 

Mrs.  Wilson  had  a  small  income  from  her  husband's 
estate  which,  helped  out  by  May's  very  fair  salary  as  a 
stenographer,  enabled  them  to  live  quite  comfortably. 
Mrs.  Wilson's  sole  dissipation  was  church-going,  and 
May  went  quite  as  regularly.  Both  of  them  were 
attracted  by  the  same  advantage  which  the  church 
offered,  but,  while  Mrs.  Wilson  said  and  believed  that 
her  assiduity  in  this  respect  was  a  manifestation  of  her 
strong  religious  feeling,  May  said  and  knew  that  her 
own  interest  was  purely  social.  She  sat  through  the 
services  with  complete  disbelief  in  their  virtue,  while 
her  mother  felt  that  she  was  actually  taking  part  in 
them  and  that  she  was  thus  helping  the  world. 

From  a  worldly  standpoint,  however,  May  was  quite 
a  sophisticated  young  person.  Ignorant  of  art  and  letters 
In  their  every  aspect,  except  that  she  was  a  fairly 
accurate  speller,  she  was  yet  shrewd,  quick  in  observa- 
tion and  blessed  with  a  retentive  memory.  She  was  not 
without  a  considerable  social  grace.  Her  dress  was  not 

47 


48  THE     CHOICE 

remarkable  either  for  style  or  the  absence  of  it.  In  this 
respect  she  was  rather  inconspicuous.  Her  invitation  to 
Susan  had  come  as  the  result  of  the  recognition  of  a 
kindred  spirit.  Such  a  recognition  is  generally  unrea- 
soned. We  seem  to  know  instinctively  when  we  are  with 
our  own. 

May  was  much  surprised  to  find  Asenath  in  Susan's 
company  when  she  opened  the  door.  She  did  not  care 
for  Asenath.  Perhaps  she  resented  her  beauty.  She  had 
known  her  from  childhood  and  they  had  never  had  any- 
thing in  common.  Asenath's  silence  annoyed  her;  she 
was  uncomfortable  in  her  presence.  She  stood  rather  in 
fear  of  a  judgment  which  was  not  pronounced  and  which 
she  suspected  was  not  favorable.  In  common  with 
almost  everyone  who  knew  Asenath,  she  felt  that  this 
silence  was  the  mark  of  a  superior  wisdom  and  she  would 
not  have  hesitated  to  quote  "  Still  waters  run  deep"  as 
entirely  applicable. 

However,  she  greeted  Asenath  as  an  old  friend  and 
devoted  her  conversation  almost  entirely  to  Susan.  Mrs. 
Wilson  was  not  visible  at  first  but  the  sounds  issuing 
from  the  kitchen  sink  proclaimed  both  her  whereabouts 
and  her  occupation. 

The  conversation  was  at  first  general.  It  was  in  the 
nature  of  a  reconnaissance  on  both  sides,  each  of  them 
bent  on  locating  the  other's  point  of  view.  This  applied 
only  to  May  and  Susan.  Asenath  did  not  talk  at  all,  but 
she  listened  intently  and  had  as  much  pleasure  from  the 


THE     CHOICE  49 

colloquy  as  either  of  the  participants.  However,  when 
apparel  came  to  be  discussed,  she  joined  in  the  talk. 
This  was  her  subject,  the  one  in  which  she  felt  herself  at 
perfect  ease.  There  was  no  phase  of  the  current  modes 
with  which  she  was  unfamiliar.  For  dress  she  had  an  all- 
seeing  eye.  No  detail  escaped  her. 

Neither  of  the  other  girls  was  half  so  interested  in  this 
topic  as  Asenath,  and  so,  after  a  while,  the  talk  went  to 
other  things. 

Suddenly  May  said,  pointing  to  Susan's  hand,  "  I  see 
you  use  'em." 

Susan's  eye  followed  May's  glance  and,  recognizing 
that  May  alluded  to  a  brownish  stain  on  the  thumb  and 
first  finger  of  her  right  hand,  said : 

"Oh!  Now  and  then." 

"  'Now  and  then'  comes  pretty  often,  don't  it?  What 
kind  do  you  use?" 

"Oh!  Any  kind  that's  handy." 

"Mamma'll  be  going  out  in  a  few  minutes,  and,  if  you 
want  to,  I've  got  a  few." 

All  this  was  a  complete  mystery  to  Asenath.  She  had 
no  idea  whatever  of  their  meaning.  However,  she  asked 
no  question.  She  did  not  wish  to  display  her  ignorance. 

Presently  Mrs.  Wilson  came  into  the  room  in  which 
the  girls  were  sitting,  exchanged  a  few  words  with  them 
and  departed.  She  had  no  sooner  gone  than  May  went 
out  of  the  room  to  return  in  less  than  a  minute  with  a 
package  of  cigarettes  and  a  box  of  safety  matches.  She 


50  THE    CHOICE 

offered  them  first  to  Susan,  who  helped  herself  to  a 
cigarette  and  a  match.  In  a  moment  whe  was  puffing 
away  with  the  contentment  of  the  practiced  smoker. 
May  offered  the  cigarettes  next  to  Asenath. 

"Do  you  smoke?"  asked  May. 

"I  never  have  yet,"  answered  Asenath. 

"Would  you  like  to  try  one?" 

"Yes." 

Asenath  took  a  cigarette  from  the  box  and  put  it  in 
her  mouth.  May  struck  a  match  and  held  it  to  the 
cigarette. 

"Now,  draw  on  it,"  she  said. 

Asenath  did  so,  inhaling  the  smoke.  She  was  imme- 
diately seized  with  a  fit  of  coughing  which  brought  tears 
to  her  eyes.  She  tried  it  half  a  dozen  times  and  finally 
mastered  the  feat  sufficiently  to  enable  her  to  inhale  the 
smoke  without  coughing. 

But  she  did  not  enjoy  it  and  shortly  laid  the  cigarette 
down  in  the  saucer  which  May  had  provided  as  an 
ash  receiver.  She  was  conscious  of  a  slight  discomfort, 
which  she  correctly  attributed  to  the  effects  of  smoking. 

"Don't  you  like  it?"  asked  Susan. 

"No,"  said  Asenath.  "I  think  it's  horrid." 

May  and  Susan  went  on  smoking  in  evident  enjoy- 
ment. They  felt  at  peace  with  each  other  and  the 
world.  And  then  they  took  up  the  subject  of  all  others, 
the  young  men  they  knew. 

The  only  acquaintances  which  they  held  in  common 


THE    CHOICE  51 

were  limited  to  the  young  men  whom  Susan  had  met 
at  church.  They  were  rather  quickly  disposed  of  with 
one  exception,  James  Rawlings,  looked  upon  as  the 
great  catch  among  all  of  the  young  fellows  who  were 
active  in  church  work.  James  was  about  twenty-seven 
years  old.  He  was  a  member  of  a  family  which,  while  not 
rich  by  any  means,  was  still  in  excellent  circumstances. 
He  was  a  paying  teller  in  one  of  the  important  Trust 
Companies,  was  held  to  be  very  bright,  quite  a  man  of 
the  world.  He  was  supposed  to  move  in  the  best  society, 
which  meant  no  more  than  moderately  wealthy  society. 
He  was  also  believed  to  dress  very  stylishly,  but  this 
was  only  a  superlative  method  of  stating  that  he  wore 
rather  good  clothes.  His  manners  were  thought  to 
represent  the  last  degree  of  polish.  They  were  good. 

Actually,  he  was  a  very  decent  young  man  who  was 
far  from  underrating  himself  in  any  particular.  His 
conceit,  however,  was  not  offensive;  it  really  did  no 
more  than  to  preserve  a  certain  amount  of  dignity  and 
to  cause  him  to  hold  himself  somewhat  aloof  from  his 
church  acquaintances  in  social  affairs  in  which  church 
activities  played  no  part. 

The  fable  of  his  greatness  had  reached  Susan  almost 
at  once  and,  by  the  time  of  her  third  visit,  she  was  as 
devout  a  believer  as  any  of  the  young  women  who 
worshipped  at  his  shrine. 

The  first  view  she  had  of  him,  after  he  had  been 
identified  for  her,  confirmed  all  of  the  reports  she  had 


52  THE    CHOICE 

heard.  He  was,  in  fact,  a  good  looking  young  fellow, 
dark,  with  fairly  regular  features.  He  was  of  medium 
height  and  average  weight.  Altogether  his  appearance 
was  quite  presentable  and  thoroughly  undistinguished. 

After  some  of  the  other  young  men  of  the  church 
crowd  had  been  discussed  and  variously  classified,  Susan 
asked: 

"Don't  you  think  Mr.  Rawlings  is  lovely?" 

May  had  been  making  a  great  effort  for  nearly  a 
year  to  turn  his  friendliness  at  church  and  Sunday 
School  to  some  personal  account.  Thus  far,  her  failure 
had  been  complete.  He  never  wavered  in  his  politeness 
and  friendliness  at  church,  but  he  never  made  any 
move  towards  the  development  of  a  friendship  with  her 
elsewhere.  May,  therefore,  had  a  distinct  sense  of  pique 
in  this  regard,  and  was  inclined  to  minimize  his  virtues. 

"Oh!  I  don't  know,"  she  said.  "I  guess  he's  all  right." 

"Isn't  his  singing  just  wonderful?"  went  on  Susan, 
apparently  not  observing  May's  lack  of  enthusiasm. 
"I've  never  heard  anybody  who  wasn't  a  regular 
singer  sing  like  that." 

"He  does  sing  well,"  assented  May  grudgingly. 

"Don't  he  ever  go  out  with  any  of  the  girls  at  all?" 
asked  Susan,  getting  down  to  business. 

"Oh,  there's  one  girl  he  goes  out  with  sometimes, 
about  once  a  year." 

"He's  awful  religious,  ain't  he?" 

"He's  religious  enough  around  the  church  but  I'm 


THE    CHOICE  53 

not  so  sure  what  he  does  elsewhere.  I've  heard  that  he 
drinks  his  cocktail  when  he  gets  a  chance."  . 

The  word  "cocktail"  had  a  very  unpleasant  sound  for 
Asenath.  She  wondered  how  anyone  could  ever  want 
to  touch  them.  However,  she  was  enjoying  herself 
thoroughly.  Never  had  she  taken  part  in  so  "grown-up" 
a  conversation. 

"You  don't  say  so,"  exclaimed  Susan  in  answer  to 
May's  remark  on  the  subject  of  Rawlings'  indulgence 
in  cocktails.  "I'd  never  have  thought  it.  Who's  the 
girl  he  goes  out  with?" 

"Laura  Mitchell.  Have  you  met  her?" 

"Is  she  the  tall,  dark  complected  girl  that  wore  a 
tan  suit  on  Sunday?" 

"Yes." 

"Is  she  nice?" 

"She's  all  right,  I  guess.  I  don't  have  much  to  do 
with  her."  This  was  strictly  true,  but  the  reason  for 
it  was  not,  as  May's  remark  would  indicate,  lack  of 
initiative  on  her  part,  but  was  owing  entirely  to  the 
fact  that  Laura  Mitchell  was  much  the  superior  of 
May  intellectually  and  found  her  company  quite 
tedious. 

"What's  her  drag  with  Mr.  Rawlings?"  asked  Susan. 

May  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "I'm  sure  I  don't 
know,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  which  suggested  that  the 
subject  bored  her.  Susan  perceived  this  but  determined 
to  make  one  more  remark  before  it  was  dropped. 


54  THE    CHOICE 

"I  guess  he'd  never  be  able  to  'see'  a  shrimp  like  me." 
The  smile  with  which  May  greeted  this  observation 
was  intended  to  convey  an  appreciation  of  its  humor 
and  at  the  same  time  an  insinuation  that  Susan  was 
too  modest  by  far.  Having  failed  in  all  her  attempts  to 
interest  Rawlings,  it  was  only  natural  that  she  should 
not  expect  Susan  to  succeed.  It  would  be  difficult  to 
explain  just  why  Susan  made  this  last  remark.  Certainly 
she  could  not  have  explained  it  herself.  Really,  it  was 
a  gage  of  battle,  for  Susan  had  determined  to  interest 
Rawlings.  She  did  not  know  just  how  she  would  go 
about  it,  but  she  was  confident  that  there  must  be  some 
way  and  that  she  would  find  it. 

Shortly  after  the  discussion  of  Rawlings,  Asenath  and 
Susan  left.  Both  of  them  felt  that  it  had  been  a  very 
successful  evening,  although  neither  of  them  said 
anything  about  it.  In  fact,  as  they  walked  towards 
McBrides'  house  in  silence,  they  both  felt  serenely 
happy. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SUSAN'S  plans  were  not  to  be  put  into  execution 
immediately.  The  summer  season  was  at  hand 
and  church  activities  ceased.  She  did  not  lose 
sight  of  her  intention,  however,  and,  although  she  did 
not  speak  of  it,  the  subject  was  often  in  her  mind.  Her 
friendship  with  Asenath  continued  and  the  girls  were 
much  together. 

In  a  negative  way,  for  the  most  part,  Asenath  did  a 
great  deal  for  her.  To  begin  with,  the  atmosphere  of  the 
McBride  household,  where  she  was  a  frequent  visitor, 
was  entirely  different  from  anything  she  had  ever  known, 
and  gave  her  an  entirely  new  viewpoint.  McBride  was, 
in  the  mam,  rather  a  silent  man.  Not  that  he  had  any 
hesitation  in  expressing  his  views  upon  occasion,  but 
rather  because  he  found  little  pleasure  in  talk  for  talk's 
sake.  He  liked  Susan.  To  him  she  always  represented  the 
convert  he  had  made.  He  enjoyed  her  ready  wit,  which, 
as  their  acquaintance  developed  and  she  felt  more  at 
ease  with  him,  was  frequently  in  evidence  in  then*  talks. 

McBride  tried  several  tunes  to  get  Susan  to  bring 
her  mother  to  church  with  her,  but,  while  she  was  quite 
willing  to  promise  to  do  what  she  could  towards  accom- 
plishing this  end,  she  never  succeeded  in  getting  her  to 
come. 

Asenath  helped  Susan  with  her  clothes.  She  told  her 

55 


56  THECHOICE 

what  to  buy,  how  to  make  it  or  have  it  made.  She  knew, 
as  if  by  instinct,  just  what  would  accentuate  Susan's 
every  good  point  and  what  would  minimize  the  poor 
ones.  Her  judgment  in  this  matter  seemed  to  Susan  to 
be  almost  uncanny.  She  was  so  delighted  with  her 
appearance  when,  for  the  first  time,  she  was  completely 
dressed  according  to  Asenath's  instruction,  that  her 
estimate  of  her  friend's  cleverness  was  largely  increased. 
It  seemed  to  her,  thus  attired,  that  she  had  advanced  in 
the  social  scale  and  that  it  was  now  incumbent  upon  her 
to  be  extremely  particular  in  the  choice  of  her  associates. 

Up  to  now,  she  had  associated  very  freely  with  a  large 
number  of  boys,  but  she  had  never  had  an  intimate 
friend  among  the  girls  she  knew.  She  had  grown  up 
almost  entirely  without  parental  supervision,  at  least 
since  she  was  fourteen  years  old,  when  she  had  first  gone 
to  work. 

But  now  she  saw  no  boys  at  all.  In  the  first  place,  she 
felt  that  those  she  knew  were  not  the  kind  with  whom 
she  should  associate  and,  in  the  second,  she  had  set 
her  mind  upon  Rawlings.  He  typified  for  her  everything 
desirable  in  a  man.  As  far  as  her  imagination  carried  her, 
she  figured  him  as  representing  supreme  elegance, 
adequate  wealth,  certain  distinction. 

Although  she  had  set  her  heart  on  attracting  him,  she 
thought  it  scarcely  possible  that  she  might  finally 
marry  him.  It  is  true  that  at  tunes  this  entered  her  head, 
but  it  seemed  too  remote  a  chance  to  be  considered 


THE    CHOICE  57 

seriously.  What  she  wanted  and  what  she  believed  she 
might  obtain  was  his  recognition  of  her  as  someone  with 
whom  he  might  associate  independently  of  any  rela- 
tion which  might  arise  through  their  meeting  at  church. 

Susan  was  much  too  intelligent  not  to  know  she  was 
without  education.  But,  though  she  recognized  her  lack 
in  this  respect,  she  could  not  believe  that  it  made  any 
important  difference.  She  felt  that  her  manners  were 
perfectly  good,  and  that  any  attempt  to  "put  on  lugs," 
as  she  would  have  called  it,  would  be  mere  affectation. 
She  felt  that  she  had  the  personal  charm,  the  ready  wit, 
the  vivacity  to  carry  her  through.  She  was  sure  that  she 
could  keep  up  with  him  if  she  only  had  the  chance.  And 
the  chance  was  what  she  determined  she  would  have. 

She  talked  to  Asenath  about  Rawlings  several  times, 
but  received  answers  which  indicated  a  total  lack  of 
interest  in  him.  Asenath  had  seen  him  frequently  but 
had  scarcely  ever  talked  to  him,  by  which  is  meant  that 
he  had  scarcely  ever  talked  to  her.  She  had  never  said 
anything  to  him  at  all  except  "good  morning"  and  "good 
evening,"  or  "yes"  or  "isn't  it?  "  when  he  had  made  some 
cheerful  remark  about  the  weather  or  some  other  simi- 
larly important  topic.  She  never  saw  him  in  the  summer 
at  all,  for  neither  of  them  went  to  church,  and  elsewhere 
she  had  never  seen  him. 

Asenath  was  in  the  habit  of  spending  two  weeks  of 
every  summer  in  the  country.  Mrs.  McBride's  brother- 
in-law,  William  Hammond,  was  a  farmer  in  fair  cir- 


58  THE    CHOICE 

cumstances,  who  was,  however,  not  above  adding  to  his 
income  by  the  entertainment  of  summer  boarders. 
Asenath  did  not  pay.  She  was  an  invited  guest  and  the 
obligation  thus  created  was  usually  discharged  by  a 
return  visit  by  the  Hammonds  to  the  McBrides,  some 
time  during  the  winter.  While  she  was  still  a  little  girl, 
that  is,  up  to  the  age  of  fourteen,  Asenath  looked  for- 
ward with  pleasure  to  her  annual  outing.  Beyond  that 
age,  it  had  lost  its  charm.  She  was  no  longer  interested 
in  purely  childish  things  and  she  was  not  old  enough 
to  be  treated  as  anything  but  a  child.  There  was  rarely 
any  society  for  her  except  her  cousin  Anna,  who  was 
slightly  younger  and  whom  she  cordially  disliked  for  no 
specific  reason  whatever.  Anna  was  no  fonder  of  her. 
The  two  girls  were  forced  to  room  together  and  this 
made  their  association  particularly  irksome,  as  they 
never  felt  able  to  indulge  in  real  quarrel,  the  parental 
rule  over  both  being  far  too  strict.  Instead,  they  simply 
tolerated  each  other,  each  fully  aware  of  the  quality  of 
her  cousin's  esteem.  This  was  one  of  Asenath's  reasons 
for  not  enjoying  her  visit  to  her  aunt,  whose  name,  by 
the  way,  she  bore. 

This  year,  however,  Anna  would  not  be  at  home,  and 
Asenath  conceived  a  brilliant  scheme.  She  was  to  use 
Anna's  bedroom,  which  would  accommodate  two.  Why 
not  then  secure  an  invitation  for  Susan?  She  asked  Susan 
if  she  would  care  to  accept  and  was  told  that  she  would 
"simply  love  to  go."  It  was  not  difficult  to  get  Mrs. 


THE    CHOICE  59 

McBride  to  write  to  her  sister  to  obtain  the  invitation, 
which  came  immediately.  It  was  not  even  difficult  to 
arrange  that  the  two  girls  should  take  their  vacations 
at  the  same  time.  They  were  allowed  one  week. 

To  Susan,  who  had  never  spent  more  than  part  of 
one  day  in  the  country,  the  projected  visit  was  a  great 
adventure.  All  of  her  previous  experience  in  the  way  of 
outings  was  confined  to  an  occasional  day  at  the  sea- 
shore. Her  idea  of  rural  life  was  based  largely  on  what 
she  had  seen  in  the  theatre,  with  particular  reference  to 
moving  pictures. 

In  her  limited  description  of  her  uncle's  farm,  Asenath 
had  not  placed  any  emphasis  upon  the  fact  that  Susan 
would  encounter  summer  boarders.  They  had  never  had 
any  interest  for  Asenath,  and,  if  she  mentioned  the 
matter  at  all,  it  had  been  so  casually  that  Susan  was 
quite  unprepared  to  see  so  many  faces  when  she  came 
into  the  dining  room  for  the  first  time. 

The  boarders  were  of  the  usual  variety.  Three  elderly 
spinsters  and  two  wives,  one  with  two  and  the  other  with 
three  small  children,  whose  husbands  came  only  at  week- 
ends, made  up  the  party. 

It  required  only  a  few  minutes  for  Susan  to  determine 
that  she  was  in  the  presence  of  gentility  and  she,  there- 
fore, exercised  great  care  in  her  behavior.  She  was  bent 
upon  her  own  social  advancement  and  saw  here  further 
opportunity  to  obtain  a  foothold  upon  a  higher  rung  in 
the  social  ladder.  She  listened  intently  to  the  conversa- 


60  THE    CHOICE 

tion,  noting  phrases  which  appeared  to  her  to  possess 
elegance  and  which  expressed  an  outlook  upon  life  which 
to  her  seemed  quite  distinguished.  She  took  very  little 
part  in  the  conversation  and  promptly  acquired  a  repu- 
tation for  modesty  and  an  agreeable  disposition. 

Asenath  took  no  part  in  the  conversation  at  all  unless 
an  occasional  smile  of  recognition  and  an  absolutely 
necessary  monosyllable  may  be  so  called. 

After  supper,  it  was  the  evening  meal,  the  two  girls, 
each  with  an  arm  about  the  other's  waist,  walked  down 
the  lane  which  led  to  the  farm.  Susan  was  enthusiastic. 
The  sun  was  setting  and  she  felt  the  beauty  of  the  softly 
lighted  early  summer  landscape. 

"Oh!  Isn't  it  gorgeous?"  she  exclaimed.  "  I  think  the 
country  is  just  beautiful." 

"Yes,"  said  Asenath.  "I  like  it  now,  but  I  never  did 
before." 

They  walked  on  in  silence.  In  a  few  minutes  they 
reached  the  main  road.  For  a  moment  they  stood  at  the 
meeting  of  the  two  roads,  and  then  choosing  the  direc- 
tion in  which  the  main  road  took  a  sharp  turn  about  a 
piece  of  woodland,  walked  on.  As  they  made  the  turn 
in  the  road  they  saw  an  automobile  at  the  edge  of  the 
deep  ditch,  evidently  held  up  on  account  of  some 
mechanical  trouble,  for  two  young  men  were  carefully 
inspecting  the  engine.  They  were  in  earnest  conversation 
and  did  not  observe  the  approach  of  the  two  girls  until 
they  were  within  a  few  yards. 


THE    CHOICE  61 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  one  of  them,  raising  his 
cap,  "we're  in  trouble.  Can  you  tell  us  where  the  nearest 
garage  is?" 

Susan  looked  at  Asenath,  expecting  her,  as  one 
acquainted  with  the  country,  to  give  the  desired  infor- 
mation. 

Asenath  took  the  hint. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said;  "we're  visitors  here  at  my 
uncle's  farm,  just  around  the  bend  in  the  road.  But  if 
you'll  go  there,  I  guess  Uncle  William  will  be  able  to 
tell  you."  She  was  distinctly  pleased  with  the  young 
man  who  had  asked  the  question.  It  was  not  merely  his 
good  looks,  although  he  had  them  in  plenty.  He  was  tall, 
slightly  less  than  six  feet;  fair,  with  regular  features, 
large  expressive  gray  eyes;  his  nose  was  rather  large,  his 
mouth  and  chin  stood  for  character  and  determination. 
It  was  not  his  pleasant  voice  nor  his  manner  of  speaking 
which  would  have  plainly  indicated  both  breeding  and 
education  to  anyone  able  to  appreciate  it;  it  was  some- 
thing quite  intangible.  But  whatever  it  was,  Asenath 
made  no  question  of  it;  she  simply  liked  him  at  once. 

He  thanked  her  and  started  off  in  the  direction  indi- 
cated, leaving  his  companion  standing  by  the  machine. 
Asenath  would  have  liked  to  accompany  him  but  did 
not  know  how  to  make  the  offer.  So,  after  his  departure, 
she  and  Susan  continued  their  walk. 

When  they  returned,  about  half  an  hour  later,  they 
found  the  machine  standing  where  they  had  left  it  but 


62  THE    CHOICE 

neither  of  the  young  men  were  in  sight.  They  went  on 
towards  the  house  and,  entering,  saw  them  both  in  the 
dining  room  eating  supper. 

Some  few  minutes  later,  the  young  men  came  into 
the  parlor,  where  Asenath  and  Susan  were  sitting.  They 
were  followed  by  Mrs.  Hammond,  who  introduced  them 
as  Mr.  Lamed,  who  proved  to  be  the  one  who  had 
addressed  the  girls,  and  Mr.  Graham.  They  were  about 
the  same  age,  twenty-five  years,  and  seemed  also  to  be 
of  much  the  same  type,  although  Graham  was  as  dark 
as  his  companion  was  fair. 

"Your  aunt  has  been  good  enough  to  take  us  in,  Miss 
McBride,"  said  Lamed.  "We  shall  have  to  haul  the 
car  into  the  barn  and  leave  it  there  until  we  can  get  a 
new  connecting  rod.  We'll  telephone  to  town  tomorrow 
morning  and  have  it  sent  out  by  a  special  messenger.  It 
ought  to  be  here  in  the  afternoon."  He  wondered  why 
he  should  feel  impelled  to  make  this  explanation  to  her. 
There  did  not  seem  to  be  any  apparent  reason  for 
supposing  her  to  be  interested. 

To  Asenath,  the  explanation  was  music.  She  found 
him  charming  and  wished  to  say  something  that  would 
show  him  how  glad  she  was  to  help  make  him  welcome. 
But  nothing  came,  and  in  its  stead  she  gave  him  a 
smile  which  betokened  an  interested,  sympathetic 
understanding.  That  is,  at  least,  how  Lamed  read  it. 
He  would  likely  have  felt  ill  at  ease,  no  matter  what 
she  might  have  said  under  the  circumstances,  for  he 


THE    CHOICE  63 

was  still  wondering  what  had  made  him  offer  the  unnec- 
essary explanation.  He  was  not  yet  fully  aware  that 
the  mere  sight  of  her  had  held  such  charm  for  him 
that  he  felt  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  justify  his 
presence  before  her. 

Asenath's  smile  had  set  him  at  ease  and,  after  that, 
conversation  was  easy. 

"This  is  a  lovely  part  of  the  country,  isn't  it?"  he 
said. 

"Yes,"  said  Asenath.  "I  love  it." 

Graham  put  in  a  word  here.  "I  learn  from  Mrs. 
Hammond  that  you  are  only  here  for  a  short  time." 

"Yes,"  said  Asenath.  "Sue  and  I  are  only  going  to 
stay  one  week.  We've  just  come." 

"Are  you  equally  fond  of  the  country,  Miss  Collins?" 
asked  Larned.  He  did  not  like  her.  She  appeared  to 
great  disadvantage  in  the  presence  of  her  friend.  Neither 
was  Graham  attracted  to  her.  Nor  was  he  particularly 
attracted  to  Asenath,  although  he  was  quite  conscious 
of  her  beauty.  But  then  his  interest  in  the  sex  was 
already  determined  in  the  direction  of  a  certain  young 
lady  who  is  of  no  importance  to  us  at  present. 

"I'm  just  crazy  about  it,"  answered  Susan.  "It's 
the  first  time  I've  ever  been  to  a  farm.  I've  always 
gone  to  the  shore." 

There  was  a  little  more  general  conversation  and  then 
Larned  and  Graham  left  to  superintend  the  hauling  of 
their  car  into  the  barn.  The  girls  went  out  on  the 


64  THE    CHOICE 

porch  and  listened  to  the  conversation  of  the  ladies  for 
a  while,  but  not  finding  that  interesting,  Asenath 
proposed  going  to  bed. 

As  they  were  undressing,  she  interrupted  Susan's 
flow  of  talk  by  asking: 

"Isn't  Mr.  Larned  grand?" 

"Oh!  I  don't  know,"  answered  Susan.  "He  seems  to 
be  all  right  but  he's  kind  of — I  don't  know  just  what  to 
call  it.  He  ain't  sissified  but  he's  got  kind  of  a  soft  way 
of  talking." 

"I  think  he's  fine,"  said  Asenath,  after  a  short  pause. 
"I  just  love  to  hear  him  talk."  She  paused  again  and 
reflected  for  a  moment.  "Did  you  notice  his  hands? 
Aren't  they  beautiful?" 

"No,"  answered  Susan.  "I  didn't  take  notice  of  that. 
His  friend,  what  was  his  name?  didn't  have  much  to 
say  for  himself." 

"Didn't  he?"  queried  Asenath.  "I  didn't  notice." 

In  their  room,  as  Larned  and  Graham  were  getting 
ready  for  bed,  the  former  said: 

"That  McBride  girl  is  a  beauty,  isn't  she?" 

"She's  certainly  very  pretty,  but  the  other's  just  the 
regular  type,  what  you  might  call  the  'garden  variety,' 
I  suppose." 

"Yes,  she  makes  an  admirable  foil  for  the  other. 
Not  that  she  needs  any  foil.  I've  got  it,"  Larned  said 
suddenly. 

"Got  what?"  asked  Graham. 


THE    CHOICE  65 

"The  moment  I  saw  Miss  McBride,  I  was  struck  with 
her  resemblance  to  someone  I  had  met,  and  ever  since, 
I've  been  cudgeling  my  brains  to  locate  her.  And  now 
I  know.  She's  the  living  counterpart  of  Madame  Vigee 
le  Brun;  you  know  the  picture,  the  one  with  her  child." 

"Oh!  Yes.  Sure,"  said  Graham.  "She  does  look  like 
her.  She  looks  quite  the  lady.  I  wonder  if  she's  got  any 
brains." 

"I  don't  doubt  it,"  said  Lamed.  "Of  course,  it  was 
impossible  to  form  any  opinion  in  the  sort  of  talk  we 
had,  but  she  gave  me  the  impression  of  being  extremely 
intelligent." 

They  talked  of  other  subjects  for  a  while  and  then 
bade  each  other  good  night. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  next  morning  Susan  was  taken  in  tow  by 
one  of  the  elderly  spinsters,  Miss  Lame,  who 
had  conceived  a  fancy  for  her.  Their  talk,  which 
had  begun  on  the  porch  shortly  after  breakfast,  was 
continued  in  Miss  Lame's  room,  where  she  had  sundry 
treasures  which  she  wished  to  show  to  Susan.  Asenath 
had  been  with  her  friend  when  the  talk  had  begun  and 
had  been  a  silent  and  uninterested  listener.  When  Miss 
Larue  asked  Susan  to  go  to  her  room,  an  invitation  had 
likewise  been  extended  to  Asenath,  but  it  was  declined 
very  sweetly.  It  was  comfortable  on  the  porch  and 
she  was  very  happy  in  the  contemplation  of  the  image 
of  Mr.  Lamed  which  was  present  in  her  mind. 

Her  delight  when  he  approached  her  shortly  after 
Susan's  departure  was  unbounded.  That  is,  of  course, 
internally.  Externally  "Welcome"  was  the  keynote  of 
her  expression.  There  was  no  mistaking  the  sincerity 
of  her  greeting. 

"Good  morning,  Miss  McBride,"  said  Larned. 

"Good  morning,"  answered  Asenath. 

"I  hope  you  rested  well,"  he  began,  "but  that's  a  silly 
remark  to  make  to  anyone  who  looks  as  fresh  as  you." 

"I  always  sleep  well/' 

"At  your  age,  I  suppose  it  is  to  be  expected."  At 
twenty-five,  eighteen  seems  very  young. 

66 


THE    CHOICE  67 

"Yes,"  said  Asenath. 

"What  would  you  say  to  a  little  stroll?"  inquired 
Larned. 

"All  right,"  said  Asenath.  "I'll  get  my  hat." 

"Do  you  need  it?  We  won't  go  far." 

"But  it's  sunny—" 

"And  your  complexion." 

Asenath  smiled  assent. 

"Well,  a  complexion  like  yours  is  worth  saving." 

She  made  no  answer  but  ran  away  to  get  her  hat. 
It  was  a  full  minute  before  she  returned,  because  with 
Asenath,  putting  on  a  hat  was  putting  on  a  hat  and  not 
merely  throwing  it  on. 

"All  ready,"  she  said  when  she  reappeared. 

"Where  shall  we  walk?"  he  asked.  "You  ought  to 
know  the  good  places." 

"There's  an  awful  pretty  brook  over  there,"  said  Asen- 
ath, pointing  in  the  direction  of  the  rear  of  the  house. 

"Let's  go  there,"  said  the  other.  And  off  they  went, 
following  a  little  path  which  led  around  the  house  and 
across  a  meadow  to  a  line  of  trees  indicating  the  presence 
of  running  water. 

They  began  their  walk  in  silence,  a  silence  however 
of  short  duration.  It  was  broken  by  Larned. 

"Did  anyone  ever  tell  you,"  he  asked,  "that  you 
resemble  Madame  Vig£e  le  Brun?" 

"No,"  said  Asenath.  She  had,  of  course,  never  heard 
of  her. 


68  THE    CHOICE 

"You've  seen  her  picture,  surely." 

"I  don't  remember,"  said  Asenath  thoughtfully. 
"Who  was  she?" 

Lamed  was  struck  with  what  he  would  have  called 
an  entire  absence  of  affectation.  He  admired  her  candor, 
her  frankness  in  admitting  her  ignorance.  He  was  sure 
that  most  girls  would  have  pretended  that  they  knew 
by  taking  care  not  to  commit  themselves. 

"She  was  a  French  artist  of  the  Eighteenth  Century. 
She  painted  a  picture  of  herself  holding  her  child.  She 
was  very  beautiful." 

"Was  she?"  asked  Asenath,  delighted. 

"Yes,  she  was,  and  you  are  very  beautiful  too.  You 
are  almost  the  exact  image  of  her,  except  that  you  are 
younger." 

Asenath  showed  her  pleasure  plainly.  She  felt  that 
she  ought  to  enter  some  sort  of  disclaimer,  but  she  could 
not  think  of  any  that  seemed  suitable  for  use  in  this 
case.  And  Larned,  seeing  her  pleasure  and  noting  that 
she  made  no  mock-modest  denial  of  his  appreciation, 
set  it  down  as  another  evidence  of  her  clean  straight- 
forwardness and  refreshing  simplicity.  He  found  her 
utterly  charming. 

There  was  a  short  silence  after  Larned 's  last  remark. 
And  again  it  was  he  who  broke  it. 

"Tell  me  all  about  yourself,"  he  said. 

"Tell  you  about  me?"  she  asked  in  surprise. 

"Yes;  you." 


THE    CHOICE  69 

"There's  nothing  to  tell." 

"There  must  be." 

"No;  there's  nothing  at  all.  You  tell  me  about 
yourself." 

"All  right.  Here  it  is  in  a  nutshell.  Name,  Harold 
Prentis  Larned.  Age,  twenty-five  next  September. 
Profession,  school  teacher.  Branch,  Physics.  Religion, 
none  that  would  be  recognized  by  any  regular  church. 
Favorite  flower,  cauliflower,  and  so  on." 

"Oh,  I  can  do  that  too,"  cried  Asenath.  This  was 
really  the  most  interesting  conversation  she  had  ever 
had  in  her  life.  "My  name's  Asenath  McBride.  What 
comes  next?" 

"Your  age." 

"Eighteen.  Nineteen  in  December.  Now  what?" 

"Profession." 

"Telephone  operator.   Now  what?" 

"Religion." 

"Presbyterian." 

"Are  you  very  devout?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  ain't  crazy  to  go  to  church.  We  just 
go — every  Sunday  and  every  Wednesday  evening  too." 

"Don't  you  enjoy  going?" 

"I  don't  know.  Sometimes  I  don't  mind  it  so  much. 
Do  you  go  to  church?" 

"Never.  Unless  for  a  wedding  or  a  funeral." 

Asenath  smiled  her  approval.  He  thought  that  he 
had  never  seen  so  sweet  a  look  as  she  wore.  In  fact, 


70  THE    CHOICE 

Asenath  was  in  gayer  mood  than  she  had  ever  known. 

They  had  reached  the  brook  by  this  time  and  stood 
looking  at  the  running  water,  fascinated  as  all  of  us 
are  by  the  murmur  and  the  ever-changing  pattern  of 
the  stream. 

It  was  again  Larned  who  broke  the  silence. 

"I'm  awfully  glad  that  we  had  our  accident  here.  I 
almost  wish  the  connecting  rod  wouldn't  come  today. 
I  feel  as  though  I'd  like  to  become  very  well  acquainted 
with  you." 

Asenath  could  not  think  of  a  suitable  answer.  She 
still  looked  at  the  brook. 

Larned  did  not  know  quite  how  to  understand  her 
silence.  There  was  no  doubt  whatever  in  his  mind  that  she 
liked  him,  for  her  bearing  was  more  than  cordial.  Perhaps 
it  was  shyness.  Assuredly  it  must  be  so,  a  sweet  maid- 
enly reserve  which  but  added  to  her  attractiveness. 

This  time  it  was  Asenath  who  broke  the  silence. 

"Tell  me  about  Madame ,  the  French  artist." 

"Oh!  Madame  Vigee  le  Brun.  I'm  afraid  I  don't  know 
very  much  myself,  except  that  she  was  born  about  1750 
and  lived  a  long  while.  You  see,  I've  sort  of  taken  her 
for  granted,  like  we  do  with  many  things." 

Asenath  looked  at  him  with  an  expression  of  the 
keenest  interest.  As  she  said  nothing,  he  went  on: 

"I  have  a  little  copy  of  the  picture  I  spoke  about 
before.  Would  you  like  to  have  it?" 

"I'd  love  to,"  said  Asenath  with  warmth. 


THE    CHOICE  71 

"If  you'll  give  me  your  address,  I'll  mail  it  to  you 
when  I  get  back  to  town." 

"That  would  be  lovely,"  she  answered.  "Thank  you 
ever  so  much." 

She  gave  him  her  address,  which  he  noted  in  a  little 
memorandum  book,  and  then  they  resumed  their  walk. 
The  talking  was  done  almost  entirely  by  Lamed.  He 
told  her  some  of  the  incidents  of  the  trip  which  he  and 
Graham  had  undertaken  and  sundry  other  matters 
which  proceeded  naturally  from  what  had  gone  before. 
When  they  returned,  both  of  them  felt  that  they  had 
had  a  most  enjoyable  time.  Until  now,  Asenath  never 
met  anyone  of  Larned's  quality  and  she  was  ready  to 
call  him  "wonderful."  It  is  quite  as  true  that  he  had 
never  met  anyone  exactly  like  her  before,  and,  while  it  is 
certain  that  he  would  not  have  applied  the  sameadjective, 
he  was  charmed  by  her  as  by  no  girl  he  had  ever  met. 

At  the  house,  on  their  return,  they  found  Graham 
waiting  for  them.  The  new  connecting  rod  had  arrived 
and  a  mechanic  from  a  nearby  garage  was  at  work  put- 
ting it  in  place. 

After  the  midday  dinner,  the  two  young  men  took 
their  departure.  As  he  was  bidding  good-bye  to  Asenath, 
Larned  said :  "I  hope  we'll  meet  again.  It  has  been  very 
pleasant." 

"Good-bye,"  she  said,  her  expression  telling  him 
what  he  wanted  to  know. 

A  few  days  after  her  return  home  Asenath  received  a 


72  THE    CHOICE 

small  photogravure  copy  of  Vigee  le  Brim's  portrait  of 
herself  and  her  daughter,  accompanied  by  these  words 
written  on  the  back  of  a  visiting  card: 

"I  am  sure  you  will  see  the  resemblance 
instantly.  It  is  most  striking.  With  the  most 
delightful  recollections  of  a  pleasant  walk  in 
the  country,  p  K>, 


Asenath  was  delighted  with  the  picture,  which  she 
recognized  as  one  she  had  seen  before  but  had  not  given 
sufficient  attention  to  lead  her  to  observe  the  likeness. 
She  saw  it  now,  incomplete  as  it  was  by  reason  of  the 
difference  in  headdress.  She  arranged  her  hair  in  the 
fashion  shown  in  the  picture  and  then  the  resemblance 
was  complete.  She  stood  before  the  glass  for  a  long  time, 
the  picture  in  her  hand,  gazing  alternately  at  it  and  her 
reflection.  It  seemed  as  though  she  would  never  tire  of 
her  first  real  appreciation  of  graphic  art. 

She  began  a  note  of  thanks  to  Lamed. 
Dear  Mr.  Lamed:  — 

The  picture  came  and  I  want  to  thank  you 
for  it.  It  is  so  beautiful  that  — 

And  there  she  stuck.  She  felt  that  she  must  in  some 
way  qualify  her  acceptance  of  the  resemblance  between 
the  picture  and  herself.  Her  code  of  etiquette  made  it 
obligatory.  But,  although  she  made  six  or  seven  attempts 
to  find  a  satisfactory  phrase,  she  was  unable  to  do  so. 

And  so  the  receipt  of  the  picture  was  never  acknowl- 


PART  TWO 

RAWLINGS 

CHAPTER  IX 

IT  was  early  in  October  that  Susan  felt  that  the  time 
had  arrived  to  make  a  test  of  her  ability  to  interest 
Rawlings.  She  had  considered  many  plans,  but  none 
of  them  seemed  practical.  The  feeling  that  she  must  not 
show  any  initiative  was  intuitive.  That  was  as  firmly 
fixed  as  the  stars  in  their  courses.  She  knew  that  in  the 
end  she  would  have  to  depend  on  herself,  but  that  would 
be  only  after  Rawlings'  interest  had  been  aroused. 

Finally  she  hit  upon  this  plan:  She  was  sure  that 
Rawlings  would  not  be  able  to  decline  a  direct  invitation 
from  McBride  to  dine  at  his  house.  McBride  was  quite 
as  active  in  church  work  as  Rawlings,  and  an  invitation 
for  a  definite  date  would  have  to  be  accepted.  She  was 
in  no  doubt  whatever  as  to  her  ability  to  induce  McBride 
to  issue  the  invitation. 

Coming  from  church  on  the  first  Sunday  morning  in 
October  to  dine  with  the  McBrides,  Susan  saw  her 
opportunity. 

"Mr.  McBride,"  she  said,  as  they  walked  along, 
"don't  you  think  Mr.  Harmon  is  a  lovely  man?" 

Mr.  Harmon  was  the  minister. 

"He's  a  very  fine  man,"  answered  McBride;  "one  of 
God's  chosen  ministers." 

73 


74  THE    CHOICE 

"I've  often  wondered  how  it  would  be  to  meet  a 
man  like  that,  you  know  what  I  mean,  at  home." 

"He's  a  fine  man,  no  matter  where  you  meet  him." 

"Does  he  ever  come  to  see  you  at  your  house? " 

"Yes,  he  comes  once  a  year.  It's  a  large  church  and 
it  takes  tune  to  get  around." 

"Did  you  ever  invite  him  to  a  meal  at  your  house?" 

"No;  we  never  did." 

"Don't  you  think  it  would  be  fine?" 

"  It's  worth  thinking  about,"  said  McBride  thought- 
fully. 

"You  could  make  up  a  nice  little  party.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Harmon,  and — and — Mr.  Rawlings?"  This  last  ques- 
tioriingly. 

"Yes;  Rawlings  would  be  all  right." 

"And,"  asked  Susan,  taking  it  now  as  an  accomplished 
fact,  "may  I  come,  too?  " 

"Surely  we'd  have  you,"  he  answered. 

At  the  dinner  table,  McBride  startled  the  other  mem- 
bers of  his  family  by  announcing: 

"I've  been  thinking  we'll  invite  Mr.  Harmon  and  his 
wife  for 'supper  some  night  soon.  I'll  speak  to  him 
Wednesday  night.  We'll  have  James  Rawlings,  too." 

The  fiat  had  gone  forth  and  that  left  nothing  to  be 
done  by  the  women  of  the  family  except  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  details.  There  was  never  any  question  when 
McBride  made  an  announcement. 

The  supper  was  fixed  for  the  second  Friday  following. 


THE     CHOICE  75 

McBride  had  consulted  Mr.  Harmon  and  he  had  set 
this  date.  Rawlings  had  also  accepted.  He  was  bored  but 
he  aspired  to  become  one  of  the  elders  of  the  church  and 
McBride  was  an  influential  member,  due  to  his  activity 
and  regularity. 

The  preparation  for  the  meal  was  quite  an  affair. 
Every  detail  of  the  menu  was  submitted  to  McBride, 
who  considered  each  item  carefully  and  gave  his  final 
judgment.  Asenath,  who  had  been  going  over  one  of  her 
fashion  magazines,  made  some  suggestions  which  were 
the  result  of  her  attention  having  been  called  to  a  pic- 
ture of  a  dinner-table  which  she  found  on  one  of  its 
pages.  It  had  caught  her  eye  because  it  really  was  a  very 
good  looking  picture.  Asenath  had  read  the  article  which 
it  illustrated  and  had  thus  learned  the  menu  which  had 
been  offered  at  the  dinner.  She  was  convinced  that  a  meal 
of  this  kind  would  be  in  good  style.  The  simplicity,  the 
almost  frugality  of  it  impressed  her  probably  for  the  same 
reason  that  she  instinctively  chose  the  most  becoming  cos- 
tumes for  herself  from  the  pages  of  the  same  magazine. 

McBride  scarcely  listened  to  her.  What  he  wanted 
and  what  was  actually  served  was  a  dinner;  they  called 
it  supper,  on  account  of  the  hour,  which  consisted  of 
roast  turkey,  six  vegetables  and  three  kinds  of  dessert, 
with  large  cups  of  coffee  served  at  the  beginning  of  the 
meal.  In  view  of  the  fact  that  the  service  was  to  be  in 
the  hands  of  Mrs.  McBride,  Asenath  and  Susan,  the 
sort  of  meal  decided  upon  was  much  more  practical  than 


76  THE    CHOICE 

the  five-course  dinner  suggested  by  Asenath.  Every- 
thing except  the  dessert  was  to  be  put  on  the  table 
before  they  sat  down  and  the  plates  would  be  passed 
around.  When  the  main  portion  of  the  meal  was  finished, 
the  three  women  would  clear  the  table  and  bring  in  the 
dessert.  When  it  was  over  the  men  would  retire  into 
the  parlor  while  the  women  cleared  up.  The  washing  of 
dishes  could  be  left  until  later. 

By  Susan's  contrivance,  Rawlings  sat  between  the 
two  girls.  There  was  not  much  opportunity  for  her  in 
this  placing  of  him,  because  what  conversation  there 
was,  while  conducted  almost  exclusively  by  Mr.  Har- 
mon and  McBride,  had  to  be  attended  by  the  others  as 
the  utterances  of  the  Delphic  oracle. 

After  all,  the  principal  business  of  the  meal  was 
eating.  Susan  made  some  side  remarks  to  Rawlings  in 
which  she  praised  his  singing.  As  he  held  his  talent  in 
this  respect  hi  rather  high  regard,  he  was  much  pleased. 
He  felt  it  necessary  to  say  that  his  singing  was  nothing 
much.  Susan  then  adverted  to  a  particular  performance 
of  his  which  she  said  had  been  most  beautiful.  This 
moved  him  to  talk  about  it  and  himself  generally.  The 
genuine  interest  which  Susan  showed  in  what  he  had 
to  say  made  her  rather  agreeable  to  him.  At  one  point  in 
his  talk,  he  made  a  somewhat  disparaging  remark  about 
his  performance  of  a  hymn  on  the  preceding  Sunday 
afternoon.  Susan  took  issue  with  him,  whereupon  he 
turned  to  his  left  and  appealed  to  Asenath. 


THE    CHOICE  77 

She  had  not  been  listening  to  their  talk  and  the 
question  had  to  be  explained  to  her.  When  she  under- 
stood, she  said: 

"I  don't  know." 

"  But  surely,  you  know  whether  it  was  good  or  bad  or 
whether  or  not  you  liked  it." 

"I  didn't  listen  to  it,"  she  answered. 

This  piqued  Rawlings,  and  he  endeavored  to  draw 
her  into  an  argument  on  the  subject,  but  she  eluded 
him.  The  greater  his  effort,  the  less  satisfaction  he 
received,  and  finally  he  gave  it  up  and  devoted  to 
Susan  all  of  the  interludes  between  the  utterances  of 
the  oracles. 

The  party  broke  up  at  an  early  hour.  More  or  less 
stupefied  by  the  large  quantity  of  food  he  had  eaten, 
McBride  gave  distinct  evidence  of  sleepiness,  and  so, 
when  Mr.  Harmon  said  at  about  nine  o'clock  that  they 
would  have  to  be  going,  his  host  made  only  a  half- 
hearted protest. 

Mrs.  Harmon  and  Susan  retired  to  put  on  their  hats 
and  wraps.  When  they  returned  presently,  "good- 
nights"  were  said,  the  guests  declared  they  had  enjoyed 
themselves  greatly  and  the  hosts  had  asked  for  another 
opportunity  to  act  as  their  entertainers. 

The  quartet  walked  down  the  street  together,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Harmon  in  the  lead. 

Rawlings  asked  Susan: 

"Where  do  you  live,  Miss  Collins?" 


78  THE    CHOICE 

Susan  told  him.  It  was  a  decidedly  poor  section  of 
the  city. 

"May  I  see  you  home?"  asked  Rawlings,  politely. 
He  had  no  wish  to  go. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  bother.  I'm  used  to  going  home 
alone,"  protested  Susan.  She  was  somewhat  embar- 
rassed. 

"  It  wouldn't  be  any  bother  at  all, "answered  Rawlings. 

"If  you'll  just  take  me  as  far  as  the  car,  I'll  be  all 
right.  Please." 

"Just  as  you  wish.  But  I'd  be  very  glad  to  go  all 
the  way.  It  isn't  late." 

But  Susan  was  determined  that  he  should  not  go. 
"Please  don't  bother,"  she  said  with  sufficient  finality  to 
convince  him. 

Rawlings  saw  her  safely  on  board  her  car  and  then 
walked  home.  He  was  somewhat  mystified.  In  one  even- 
ing, two  different  girls,  two  very  young  girls,  too,  had 
asserted  themselves  in  his  presence.  Susan's  refusal  of  his 
escort  meant  nothing  much  to  him.  It  was  far  more  con- 
venient not  to  accompany  her,  but  that  she  should  not 
jump  at  the  chance  of  having  James  Rawlings  for  a 
cavalier,  even  though  it  might  be  obvious  that  his  offer 
was  due  to  politeness  only,  rather  piqued  him.  But 
Asenath's  indifference  was  a  deeper  wound.  He  was  not 
much  of  a  ladies'  man,  but  what  little  he  had  had  to  do 
with  girls  had  accustomed  him  to  look  for  both  admira- 
tion and  gratitude  from  them  for  no  more  than  his  notice. 


THE    CHOICE  79 

As  he  pondered  this  matter,  it  suddenly  occurred  to 
him  that  he  would  have  to  make  some  return  for  his 
evening's  entertainment.  Of  course,  he  would  have  to 
call  on  the  family.  But  he  felt  that  that  would  not  be 
sufficient.  He  must  do  something  which  would  place  the 
obligation  on  their  side. 

The  only  thing  possible  was  some  entertainment  to 
be  offered  to  Asenath.  He  could  not  very  well  take  the 
whole  family  out.  He  was  not  well  placed  to  have  them 
all  at  dinner  at  his  house,  as  he  lived  with  a  married 
sister,  whose  husband  attended  another  church.  Finally 
he  decided  to  ask  Asenath  to  accompany  him  to  a  con- 
cert to  be  given  on  Saturday  of  the  next  week.  He  would 
thus  have  a  chance  to  pay  her  for  her  indifference. 

He  made  the  proposal  on  Sunday.  Asenath  accepted 
it  very  sweetly  but  without  the  enthusiasm  that 
Rawlings  expected.  After  she  had  expressed  her  willing- 
ness to  go,  he  asked  her  how  she  would  like  to  have  him 
call  for  her  early  and  take  her  to  dinner  at  one  of  the 
restaurants.  He  mentioned  a  very  expensive  place  of 
which  Asenath  knew  no  more  than  that  it  was  supposed 
to  be  "very  swell." 

"I'll  ask  mamma,"  said  Asenath,  this  time  with 
more  interest.  "I  guess  she'll  say  it's  all  right.  I'll  see 
you  at  Sunday  School  and  tell  you." 

When  she  saw  him  in  the  afternoon  she  announced 
that  her  parents'  consent  had  been  obtained,  but  she 
did  not  tell  him  that  nothing  but  Rawlings'  reputation 


80  THE    CHOICE 

for  Godliness  had  prevailed  against  McBride's  prejudice 
against  such  places.  He  had  refused  at  first,  but  for 
once  his  wife  had  dared  to  question  his  decision.  She 
had  pointed  out  that  the  very  best  people  went  to 
this  place,  among  them  a  Presbyterian  minister  of 
national  reputation  who  had  been  entertained  there  by 
some  rich  members  of  their  own  congregation.  The 
discussion  had  the  effect  of  largely  increasing  Asenath's 
interest  in  the  affair.  Her  general  lack  of  interest  in 
her  surroundings  at  this  particular  time  was  partly 
due  to  the  fact  that  the  memory  of  her  morning  with 
Lamed  was  almost  constantly  in  her  mind.  She 
frequently  upbraided  herself  for  her  failure  to  acknowl- 
edge the  receipt  of  the  picture  he  had  sent  her  while 
it  was  yet  time. 
Now  it  was  too  late. 


CHAPTER  X 

PROMPTLY  at  six  o'clock  on  Saturday  evening, 
Rawlings  stepped  out  of  a  taxicab  and  rang  the 
McBrides'  doorbell.  Mrs.  McBride,  following  a 
custom  which  has  the  force  of  great  tradition,  peered 
out  of  the  window  before  answering.    When  she  saw 
the  taxicab,  she  was  greatly  excited.  Nothing  of  the 
kind  had  ever  happened  before  in  her  experience.  She 
called  to  Asenath,  as  she  went  down  the  stairs: 
"He's  come  in  a  taxi!" 

Asenath  was  surprised  beyond  measure.  A  taxi!  This 
was  life  indeed.  Rawlings  certainly  knew  how  to  do 
things.  Now  she  could  feel  perfectly  comfortable  in 
her  new  dress.  She  had  been  in  some  doubt  about  it, 
for  it  was  in  the  very  latest  fashion,  and  wearing  it 
in  a  street-car  would  surely  subject  her  to  staring.  She 
was  nearly  ready  when  the  bell  rang,  but  she  did  not 
descend  at  once.  It  was  not  premeditated  but  instinc- 
tive. She  employed  the  three  or  four  minutes  in  assuring 
herself  of  the  complete  correctness  of  her  attire  in  every 
particular. 

When  she  came  into  the  parlor,  Rawlings  was 
delighted  with  her  appearance.  He  had  never  before 
been  fully  conscious  of  her  beauty.  If  anyone  had  asked 
him  what  sort  of  looks  she  had,  it  would  have  been 
necessary  for  him  to  have  taken  thought  before  he 

81 


82  THE    CHOICE 

answered.  He  would  undoubtedly  have  said  that  "she 
wasn't  a  bad  looking  girl."  But  now,  he  recognized 
she  was  more  than  that,  and  would  have  been  willing 
to  admit  that  she  was  quite  worthy,  at  least  in  appear- 
ance, of  the  somewhat  elaborate  entertainment  he  had 
planned  for  the  purpose  of  convincing  the  McBrides 
that  he  was  a  very  big  man  indeed. 

Asenath's  pleasure  in  the  affair  had  not  figured  in 
his  calculations  at  all.  Even  now,  in  his  satisfaction 
with  her  appearance,  he  was  thinking  of  the  favorable 
impression  she  would  make  upon  any  of  his  acquaint- 
ances who  might  see  her  with  him.  He  was  surprised 
that  the  daughter  of  such  commonplace  people  could 
have  such  an  air  of  distinction  and  wear  such  good 
looking  clothes  with  so  much  grace  and  poise. 

He  greeted  her  with  a  compliment  upon  her  looks, 
which  she  acknowledged  with  a  grateful  smile.  She 
felt  somewhat  ill  at  ease,  excited.  This  was  the  first 
time  in  her  life  that  a  man  had  come  to  see  her.  Never, 
in  all  of  her  dreams,  had  she  imagined  such  splendor  as 
this.  Rawlings  was  in  evening  dress. 

Mrs.  McBride  exchanged  a  few  words  with  him 
before  they  left;  she  watched  them  start  off  in  the  taxi 
and  then  ran  upstairs  to  discuss  the  matter  with 
McBride,  who  had  been  unable  to  appear. 

The  talk  between  Asenath  and  Rawlings  in  the  cab 
was  rather  disjointed.  She  scarcely  heard  what  he  said, 
so  intent  was  she  upon  the  novel  situation  in  which  she 


THE    CHOICE  83 

found  herself.  She  answered  his  remarks  with  mono- 
syllables only. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  restaurant,  Asenath  was 
newly  excited.  The  attendant  in  uniform  who  opened 
the  door  of  the  cab,  the  canopy  over  the  street,  the 
thick  carpet  of  the  entrance  hall,  the  maid  who  attended 
her  in  the  ladies'  room  were  all  new  experiences.  Excited 
as  she  was,  there  was  no  indication  of  it  in  her  demeanor. 
She  received  every  attention  without  making  any 
false  steps,  simply  because  she  exercised  no  initiative 
at  all  and  always  awaited  action  on  the  part  of  the 
others.  Only  when  her  wraps  had  been  taken  from  her 
and  she  had  again  assured  herself  of  the  correctness  of 
every  detail  of  her  dress  did  she  ask  a  question: 

"Will  Mr.  Rawlings  come  here  for  me?" 

The  maid  indicated  a  door,  which  Asenath  opened 
and  found  Rawlings  awaiting  her.  This  was  his  first 
sight  of  her  without  her  coat  and  his  pleasure  was  even 
greater  than  before. 

"All  ready?"  he  asked. 

"All  ready,"  she  said  and  walked  with  him  to  the 
door  of  the  main  dining  room.  The  head  waiter  greeted 
Rawlings  by  name,  a  custom  which  pleased  him 
greatly  because  he  felt  that  it  indicated  his  social 
prominence  as  a  frequent  guest  in  this  fashionable 
place,  but  which  made  no  impression  on  the  inex- 
perienced Asenath,  who  took  it  quite  as  a  matter  of 
course. 


84  THE    CHOICE 

When  they  were  seated  at  a  reserved  and  specially 
decorated  table,  the  special  character  of  which  was 
unsuspected  by  Asenath,  Rawlings  asked  her  if  she 
had  any  choice  as  to  food. 

"No,"  answered  she,  "you  order.  I  don't  want  very 
much.  I  ain't  a  bit  hungry." 

"Do  you  care  for  oysters?" 

"Oh!  yes.  But  you  just  order  whatever  you  please. 
Only  not  much." 

Rawlings  gave  an  order.  He  was  without  much 
imagination  in  this  particular  and  did  not  venture 
very  far.  He  selected  oysters  on  the  shell,  a  steak,  some 
potatoes  and  celery.  He  wondered  whether  it  would 
look  well  to  order  a  cocktail  of  some  sort,  but  decided 
that  he  had  better  not. 

While  the  order  was  being  given,  Asenath's  eyes  were 
busy.  She  saw  everything,  but  the  women's  costumes 
particularly  claimed  her  attention.  She  was  supremely 
happy.  Her  first  embarrassment  had  worn  off,  and 
while  she  was  still  somewhat  excited,  which  was  visible 
only  in  her  heightened  color,  she  was  quite  comfortable 
and  able  to  enjoy  the  adventure  to  the  full. 

When  the  waiter  departed,  Rawlings  engaged  her  in 
conversation.  He  tried  to  draw  her  out,  but  found  it 
impossible.  She  did  not  respond  to  any  of  his  leads. 
She  answered  any  direct  question  he  put  to  her  and 
agreed  with  all  of  his  statements  either  by  word  or 
expression,  but  did  not  follow  up  any  subject  which  he 


THECHOICE  85 

introduced.  At  last,  he  asked  her  if  she  was  fond  of 
dancing. 

"I  love  it,"  said  Asenath  with  warmth,  "but  I've 
hardly  ever  had  a  chance  to  try  it." 

"How's  that?"  he  asked. 

"Well,  you  know  papa  thinks  dancing's  wrong." 

"Oh,  I  suppose  he  would.  I  never  thought  of  that. 
How  did  you  learn  then?" 

"Sue  showed  me  at  the  exchange  at  lunch  time.  The 
only  time — "  She  was  about  to  tell  of  her  dances  with 
Tom  Holland,  when  she  suddenly  remembered  Susan's 
admonition  on  this  subject  and  was  silent.  Rawlings 
waited  for  her  to  finish  her  sentence,  but  as  she  made 
no  move  to  do  so,  he  asked : 

"What  were  you  going  to  say?  You  said  'the  only 
time.'" 

"Oh!  I  was  just  thinking,"  she  answered.  She  would 
have  liked  to  change  the  subject  but  no  lead  came  to 
her.  Rawlings  waited  again  without  result.  At  last,  he 
asked: 

"Thinking  of  what?" 

"Oh!  just  thinking." 

The  waiter  saved  her  by  bringing  the  oysters.  After 
he  had  gone,  Rawlings  said: 

"You  and  Miss  Collins  are  great  friends,  aren't  you?" 

"Yes/'  said  Asenath. 

"Were  you  acquainted  with  her  before  you  went  to 
the  telephone  company?" 


86  THE    CHOICE 

"No." 

"What  sort  of  a  girl  is  she?" 

"She's  lovely." 

"What  kind  of  people  are  her  family?" 

"I've  never  met  any  of  them." 

"Have  you  never  been  at  their  house?" 

"No." 

"How's  that?" 

"I  don't  know.  I've  just  never  gone.  Sue  always 
comes  to  our  house." 

"Is  she  bright?" 

"Oh!  yes.  She's  wonderful." 

"Wonderful?  How?" 

"Oh!  I  don't  know.  She  just  knows  how  to  do  any- 
thing." 

"She  seems  very  bright," said  Rawlings,  remembering 
the  favorable  impression  she  had  made  at  the  meal  at 
McBrides'.  "I  suppose  they're  very  poor  people." 

"I  guess  so,"  answered  Asenath. 

Their  talk  was  much  like  this.  Rawlings  liked  to 
talk  about  himself  and  tried  to  get  Asenath  to  make 
an  opportunity  for  him,  but  she  never  did.  Finally, 
he  gave  up  waiting  for  her  to  give  him  the  lead  and 
made  it  for  himself.  She  listened  attentively  to  all  he 
said  and  gave  every  indication  of  cordial  interest  and 
approval  in  her  facial  expression,  but  she  said  nothing. 
Rawlings  was  nonplused.  He  was  used  to  flattery  and 
this  girl  gave  him  none  of  it.  She  was  scarcely  more 


THE    CHOICE  87 

than  a  child,  and  certainly  she  could  not  be  used  to  the 
kind  of  entertainment  he  was  offering  her,  yet  she 
seemed  as  composed  and  self-possessed  as  though  this 
was  an  everyday  affair,  accepting  all  he  offered  without 
comment  of  any  kind. 

He  had  never  been  so  much  interested  by  any  girl. 
He  was  sure,  now  that  he  had  seen  her  to  advantage, 
having  been  her  sole  companion  for  more  than  an 
hour,  that  she  was  more  beautiful  than  anyone  he 
had  ever  known.  And  it  was  not  mere  beauty  of  face; 
she  had  a  carriage,  a  grace,  a  presence  which  were 
thoroughly  in  keeping.  Her  smile  was  particularly 
lovely.  When  he  saw  it,  he  was  conscious  of  a  thrill  of 
pleasure.  He  no  longer  thought  of  his  primary  object  in 
inviting  her.  That  was  gone  and  in  its  stead  he  felt 
only  the  desire  to  please  her. 

They  finished  their  dinner  and  he  led  her  to  the 
women's  room.  When  she  re-appeared,  he  had  ordered 
another  taxi,  although  they  were  less  than  half  a  dozen 
blocks  from  their  destination  and  it  was  a  clear,  mild 
evening. 

Asenath  disappointed  him  because  she  made  no  com- 
ment on  his  extravagance,  but  acted  as  though  she  were 
accustomed  to  just  this  sort  of  thing.  He  wanted  the 
opportunity  to  say  something  in  justification  of  his 
magnificence,  but  her  silence  gave  him  no  opening.  The 
discomfiture  which  he  felt  acted  as  a  spur.  He  was  deter- 
mined to  compel  some  expression  of  admiration. 


88  THE    CHOICE 

The  concert  was  a  wonderful  experience  for  Asenath. 
Good  music  appealed  to  her.  She  did  not  understand  any 
part  of  its  technique,  as  her  whole  musical  education  was 
limited  to  what  little  she  had  learned  at  the  public 
school.  But,  even  without  understanding,  her  pleasure 
was  complete.  She  gave  herself  up  to  undefined,  blissful 
emotion.  Almost  all  of  the  good  music  she  had  ever 
heard  was  confined  to  the  better  parts  of  the  music  at 
the  church.  The  organist  was  a  man  of  taste  and  used 
as  much  good  material  as  was  possible. 

In  the  intervals  between  the  numbers,  Rawlings  made 
comments  on  the  quality  of  the  performance,  find- 
ing some  parts  admirable  and  others  unsatisfactory. 
Asenath  agreed  with  his  approval  and  listened  to  his 
disapproval.  To  her  it  was  all  beautiful. 

When  it  was  over,  he  proposed  that  they  dance  for 
a  little  while  before  going  home.  Another  taxi  took  them 
back  to  the  restaurant  in  which  they  had  dined.  In  the 
three  dances  which  they  permitted  themselves,  Rawlings 
found  that  he  had  never  had  a  more  satisfactory  partner. 
She  seemed  to  divine  his  intention  almost  before  it  came 
to  him.  He  found  himself  regretting  the  necessity  for 
taking  her  home  early. 

At  eleven  o'clock  there  was  another  taxi,  and  ten 
minutes  later  he  heard  her  say :  "  I've  had  a  lovely  time. 
Thank  you  ever  so  much.  Good-night." 


CHAPTER  XI 

IF  Rawlings   could   have  heard  the  conversation 
between  Asenath  and  her  mother  which  began  imme- 
diately after  his  departure  and  lasted  until  nearly 
one  o'clock,  he  would  have  been  perfectly  satisfied  with 
himself  as  a  paragon  of  entertainers.  But  this  joy  was 
denied  him  and  he  sat  in  his  taxi  on  the  way  home  a 
prey  to  decidedly  mixed  emotions. 

Of  one  emotion  he  was  poignantly  aware  and  that 
was  that  he  wanted  to  see  Asenath  again  as  soon  as 
possible.  He  tried  to  convince  himself  that  this  was  not 
true,  that  nothing  had  happened  to  alter  his  hitherto 
complete  self-sufficiency,  but  he  could  not  do  it.  He 
wanted  to  be  with  her.  Out  of  the  evening's  happen- 
ings, many  were  far  from  satisfactory  to  him.  He  had 
had  no  specific  acknowledgment  of  his  lavish  gener- 
osity. There  had  been  no  definite  recognition  of  his 
attractiveness.  There  had  been  no  flattery.  He  did  not 
admit  to  himself  that  he  wanted  these  expressly,  but  he 
felt  their  absence.  It  seemed  to  him  that,  underlying 
Asenath's  graciousness,  there  was  a  coolness,  an  aloof- 
ness which  implied  some  inadequacy  on  his  part.  He 
tried  to  analyze  the  cause  of  his  dissatisfaction  but 
could  not.  There  was  no  distinct  action  of  hers  nor 
any  part  of  her  demeanor  with  which  he  could  find 
fault,  and  yet  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  been  held 

89 


90  THE    CHOICE 

at  arm's  length  by  this  mere  chit,  and  it  annoyed  him. 

But  still,  he  wanted  to  see  her  again.  Her  image  was 
before  him,  the  sensation  of  her  body  in  his  arms  as  they 
danced  was  yet  warm.  What  had  come  over  him?  This 
was  a  new  experience  and  one  he  did  not  like.  It  hurt  his 
pride.  Always  before,  on  the  somewhat  rare  occasions 
on  which  he  had  acted  as  a  cavalier,  he  had  come  away 
with  a  sense  of  satisfaction.  The  girl  had  always  shown 
her  gratitude  impressively,  had  always  made  him  feel 
rather  magnificent.  This  had  given  him  the  opportunity 
to  dispense  favor  or  to  withhold  it  with  no  other  object 
than  the  gratification  of  his  vanity. 

Suddenly  it  occurred  to  him  that  tomorrow  would  be 
Sunday  and  he  could  see  her  at  church.  A  surge  of  joy 
overcame  him  at  the  thought.  It  would  be  only  a  few 
hours.  And  then  came  a  realization  that  it  would  never 
do  to  show  his  feeling  so  plainly.  He  would  not  go  to 
church  at  all  next  day.  There  were  plenty  of  reasons 
for  his  remaining  away. 

No  sooner  had  the  door  of  the  McBrides'  house  closed 
than  Mrs.  McBride  said: 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it.  Youhad  a  fine  time,  didn't  you?  " 

"Grand,"  declared  Asenath.  "I  never  had  a  better 
time.  He's  awful  liberal.  Just  think,  four  taxis,  one  to  go 
to  the  restaurant,  one  to  go  to  the  concert,  one  to  go 
back  to  the  restaurant — " 

"Did  you  go  back  there?  What  for?"  asked  Mrs. 
McBride,. 


THECHOICE  91 

"We  had  some  lemonade,"  answered  her  daughter, 
suddenly  remembering  that  it  would  be  quite  as  well 
not  to  mention  dancing. 

"And  one  to  come  home,"  said  Mrs.  McBride.  "I 
think  that's  extravagance.  What  did  you  have  for 
supper?" 

"Raw  oysters,  steak,  potatoes,  celery,  ice  cream. 
Oh!  It  was  lovely.  There  were  flowers  on  the  table,  and 
he  made  me  take  some  of  them  to  wear.  I  left  them  in 
the  taxi.  It's  a  beautiful  place  and  everything's  so  nice 
and  quiet." 

"  How  was  the  concert?  " 

"Fine." 

And  so  on  until  Mrs.  McBride  had  exhausted  her 
capacity  for  questioning  and  Asenath  had  told  every- 
thing she  could  think  of. 

There  was  one  question,  however,  that  Mrs.  McBride 
did  not  ask,  but  it  was  constantly  in  her  mind.  It  grew 
out  of  the  possibility  that  Rawlings  might  become  a 
suitor  for  her  daughter's  hand.  This  was  but  motherly 
interest.  Nothing  could  be  more  natural.  To  have  her 
daughter  marry  a  man  of  Rawlings'  evident  wealth,  not 
to  mention  his  superior  social  position,  seemed  ambitious 
indeed,  but  then,  ambitious  or  not,  she  was  sure  that 
he  could  not  do  better.  It  was  true  the  McBrides  were 
not  rich,  but  they  were  as  good  as  anybody. 

Asenath  got  into  bed  but  did  not  sleep.  She  was  far 
too  happy.  Ah,  life  was  good  and  she  was  a  lucky  girl. 


92  THE    CHOICE 

In  all  of  her  dreams,  she  had  never  fancied  that  such 
luxury  might  be  hers.  She  knew  that  there  were  fine 
restaurants;  that  there  must  be  many  elegances  within 
the  command  of  the  rich;  that  there  were  servants  to 
do  their  bidding,  automobiles  to  carry  them  wherever 
they  wished;  but  that  she  should  enjoy  them  without 
stint,  that  all  of  this  should  actually  come  to  her,  she 
had  never  seriously  imagined.  Rawlings  must  be  very 
rich.  Otherwise  he  never  would  have  been  able  to  spend 
such  enormous  sums  so  freely.  She  wondered  whether 
she  had  borne  herself  well,  whether  she  had  done  what 
he  expected. 

And  then  she  wondered  why  he  had  done  all  of  this 
for  her.  It  must  be  that  he  liked  her,  that  he  found  her 
worthy  of  his  attentions.  What  would  Susan  say  when 
she  heard  it?  Would  she  be  jealous?  No,  Susan  was  above 
that;  she  would  be  pleased  to  hear  it.  Would  she  think 
Rawlings  was  fond  of  her?  Was  he? 

And  then  came  another  question: 

Was  she  fond  of  Rawlings?  Of  course,  she  liked  him. 
It  was  fine  to  be  with  him.  He  talked  so  well.  He  was  so 
much  a  man  of  the  world.  He  just  ordered  those  taxis 
and  their  dinner  as  though  it  was  the  most  ordinary 
thing  imaginable.  Of  course,  she  liked  him.  And  then 
came  a  memory  of  Lamed  and  a  comparison.  Would  he 
have  done  as  much  for  her?  She  could  not  answer,  but 
she  felt  that  there  was  something  about  him  that  was 
missing  in  Rawlings;  she  could  not  tell  what,  but  it  was 


THE    CHOICE  93 

something  that  made  him  stand  out  before  her  as,  well, 
just  different.  But  this  was  silly.  What  right  had  she  to 
think  of  him?  She  had  not  had  the  common  decency  to 
acknowledge  his  gift. 

Ah  well,  it  had  been  a  lovely  evening  and  perhaps  she 
might  have  another  like  it.  Rawlings  certainly  must  have 
enjoyed  it  as  well.  He  had  complimented  her  on  her 
dancing.  He  danced  beautifully,  too.  When  he  led  her, 
she  could  just  lose  herself  in  the  joy  of  it.  She  had  wanted 
to  tell  him  how  well  he  danced,  but  the  words  simply 
would  not  come.  Next  time,  perhaps,  if  there  was  a 
next  time — and  she  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XII 

SUSAN'S  first  emotion  when  she  learned  that 
Rawlings  had  invited  Asenath  to  go  to  the  con- 
cert with  him  was  jealousy.  For  a  moment  she  was 
angry  and  felt  that  her  friend  had  not  used  her  well.  But 
it  was  only  for  a  moment,  and  then  her  good  sense 
resumed  the  mastery.  It  was  obvious  that  this  invita- 
tion had  not  come  through  any  seeking  of  Asenath 
and  certainly  any  estrangement  between  the  two  girls 
would  stand  in  the  way  of  the  realization  of  Susan's 
hopes.  But  it  was  not  all  self-interest  on  her  part.  She 
was  really  very  fond  of  Asenath  and  their  friendship 
was  a  reality,  while  her  ambition  with  regard  to  Rawlings 
was  no  more  than  a  dream. 

On  the  Sunday  following  Asenath's  evening  with 
Rawlings,  Susan  appeared  at  McBrides'  house  shortly 
after  breakfast.  She  and  Asenath  promptly  retired  to  the 
latter's  room  and,  without  any  preliminaries,  entered  into 
a  discussion  of  the  happenings  of  the  preceding  evening. 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  Susan,  "from  the  very 
beginning." 

Asenath  went  over  the  matter  in  some  detail.  The 
principal  emphasis  was  laid  on  the  four  taxis,  the  ele- 
gance of  the  restaurant,  the  dance  after  the  concert. 

"He's  some  swell  provider,  ain't  he?"  said  Susan 
with  enthusiasm. 

94 


THE    CHOICE  95 

"He's  just  grand,"  said  Asenath. 

"How  was  he  to  you?"  inquired  Susan. 

"How  do  you  mean?"  asked  her  friend. 

"Oh!  you  know.  Did  he  act  as  though  he  liked  you?" 

"I  don't  know.  He  was  awful  nice." 

"Did  he  tell  you  anything  like  he  liked  you?" 

"No,  He  said  he  liked  to  dance  with  me." 

"How  did  he  say  it?" 

"I  don't  remember  just  how." 

"He  wasn't  kind  of  soft,  was  he?" 

"Oh!  no.  He  was  a  perfect  gentleman." 

"He  must  be  awful  rich." 

"I  guess  so." 

"  I  guess  he  put  more  than  one  ten-spot  on  the  blink." 

"Ten-spot?"  this  questioningly  from  Asenath. 

"Ten  dollar  bill,  I  mean." 

There  was  much  more  talk  on  the  subject  before  they 
finished  with  it.  Susan  was  not  quite  sure  whether 
Asenath  was  not  withholding  from  her  some  indication 
of  special  interest  in  her  on  Rawlings'  part.  All  of  her 
questioning,  however,  failed  to  disclose  any,  and  she 
was  forced  to  content  herself.  She  could  not  understand 
how  any  young  man  could  devote  such  attention  to  a 
girl  unless  he  was  much  smitten  with  her.  While  she 
was  pondering  this  question,  it  occurred  to  her  that 
perhaps  Rawlings  had  taken  Asenath  to  the  concert 
merely  to  make  some  return  for  his  invitation  to  the 
McBrldes',  and  thenceforward  her  serenity  was  complete. 


96  THE    CHOICE 

The  two  girls  accompanied  McBride  to  church. 
Mrs.  McBride  rarely  went  on  Sunday  mornings,  as  she 
had  the  dinner  to  prepare.  When  they  reached  the 
church,  Susan  was  on  the  lookout  for  Rawlings,  but 
failed  to  see  him.  In  fact,  he  had  not  arrived,  but,  in 
spite  of  his  resolution  of  the  night  before,  he  came  in 
shortly  after  they  did  and  took  a  seat  directly  in  back 
of  them.  Susan  happened  to  turn  immediately  after  he 
came  in,  saw  him  and,  at  the  first  favorable  opportunity, 
whispered  to  Asenath,  "He's  sitting  just  behind  us." 

"Who?"  asked  Asenath. 

"You  know,  Mr.  Rawlings." 

It  came  over  Asenath  suddenly  that  Rawlings  had 
come  to  church  to  see  her.  Not  that  he  was  not  a 
regular  attendant;  he  was  seldom  absent  from  any  of 
the  services  or  other  functions.  But  that  he  should  sit 
so  near  to  her  seemed  significant.  She  could  not  have 
offered  any  valid  reason  for  her  belief.  His  having  taken 
that  seat  might  well  have  been  purely  accidental.  He 
may  not  even  have  thought  that  he  was  choosing  a 
seat  which  happened  to  be  near  hers.  She  felt  somewhat 
excited,  an  excitement  in  which  there  was  a  slight  feeling 
of  triumph.  Susan  was  more  excited  than  Asenath,  but 
by  reason  of  very  different  emotions.  When  the  service 
was  over  and  the  congregation  had  risen  to  depart, 
Rawlings  greeted  them. 

McBride  acknowledged  his  greeting  and  walked  off. 
He  wanted  to  talk  about  some  church  matter  to  one 


THE    CHOICE  97 

of  the  trustees.  This  left  Rawlings  with  the  two  girls. 

"A  fine  sermon,  wasn't  it?"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Asenath,  but  to  tell  the  truth,  not  a 
word  of  it  had  penetrated  her  inner  consciousness. 

"I  don't  see  how  anybody  could  ever  know  so  much 
as  Mr.  Harmon,"  said  Susan.  "It's  just  wonderful. 
Why,  he  talks  about  lots  of  things  I  didn't  ever  know 
were  in  books.  Lots  of  it  goes  clean  over  my  poor — ," 
she  paused,  for  she  was  just  about  to  say  "bean,"  but 
caught  herself  and  finished  with  the  right  word. 

"Yes,"  said  Rawlings,  "he  has  a  wonderful  mind." 

They  started  to  walk  down  the  aisle,  still  discussing 
the  sermon.  Rawlings  did  most  of  the  talking,  Susan  a 
little  and  Asenath  none  at  all.  Asenath  was  very  happy, 
and,  strange  to  say,  Rawlings  was  perfectly  content 
simply  to  be  with  her  in  spite  of  the  presence  of  Susan, 
with  whom  he  was  forced,  by  Asenath's  silence,  to  do 
all  of  the  talking. 

When  they  reached  the  entrance,  Rawlings  spoke  to 
Asenath. 

"You  seem  none  the  worse  for  your  dissipation  of 
last  night,"  he  said,  with  a  smile. 

"No,  indeed,"  she  answered,  "I  feel  fine."  She  would 
have  liked  to  add  something  about  her  enjoyment  of 
the  evening  but  it  simply  wouldn't  come  to  her  lips. 
So  instead,  she  asked: 

"How  are  you  feeling  this  morning?" 

"Very  well,"  he  answered,  delighted  at  this  show  of 


98  THE    CHOICE 

personal  interest.  "I'm  always  well.  I  suppose  you  are, 
too." 

"Yes,"  she  answered.  "I  can't  remember  the  last 
time  I  was  sick.  I  guess  the  last  time  was  when  I  was  a 
little  kid  and  had  the  measles  or  mumps  or  some  such 
sickness." 

Rawlings  noted  how  particularly  agreeable  her  voice 
was  this  morning,  and  how  bright  and  fresh  she  looked. 
Asenath  found  him  very  pleasant  and  their  conversation 
extraordinarily  interesting. 

"Are  you  going  to  walk  home?"  Rawlings  asked  as 
he  saw  McBride  approaching  them. 

"I  guess  so,  we  almost  always  walk.  Are  you  going 
our  way?" 

"Why!  Yes.  For  a  few  blocks  anyway." 

Susan  had  been  a  silent  listener  during  this  conversa- 
tion. But  her  wits  had  been  busy  and  as  a  result  she  was 
convinced  that  Rawlings  was  infatuated  with  Asenath. 
It  came  to  her  with  a  sudden  pang.  She  wanted  to  be 
away  from  them  to  think  it  over.  She  would  have  been 
happy  to  have  had  the  opportunity  to  miss  the  Sunday 
dinner  at  McBrides',  but  she  had  no  satisfactory  excuse 
to  offer. 

When  McBride  reached  them  and  announced  that 
they  had  better  be  going,  Susan  walked  off  with  him, 
leaving  Asenath  to  Rawlings.  She  did  this  as  gracefully 
as  she  could,  so  that  he  might  take  it  as  having  been 
done  without  design.  Rawlings,  however,  was  extremely 


THE    CHOICE  99 

self-conscious  and  felt  that  his  being  alone  with  Asenath 
would  furnish  food  for  gossip.  If  he  had  been  able  to 
think  clearly,  it  would  have  occurred  to  him  that 
Susan's  presence  would  not  have  altered  matters  in 
this  respect.  He  would  have  been  much  more  com- 
fortable had  he  left  Asenath  when  McBride  came 
up,  but  he  had  not  done  so.  At  the  same  time,  he  felt 
a  great  joy  at  being  with  her,  which  fully  compensated 
for  his  discomfort.  He  walked  only  two  blocks  with 
her  and  their  talk  was  utterly  perfunctory,  except  what 
passed  between  them  just  as  he  was  about  to  leave  her. 

"I  hope  you  enjoyed  yourself  as  much  as  I  did  last 
evening,"  he  said. 

"I  had  the  loveliest  time  ever,"  she  answered;  "it  was 
perfectly  sweet." 

"I'm  glad  you  enjoyed  it.  We'll  try  it  again  soon, 
shall  we?" 

"I'd  love  to.  Thanks  ever  so  much." 

"Good-bye,"  he  said,  and  left  without  attempting  to 
offer  any  farewell  to  the  others,  who  had  gone  on  ahead. 

Asenath  ran  after  them.  She  was  delighted.  The 
prospect  of  another  evening  such  as  the  last,  now  that 
she  knew  what  it  meant,  was  a  great  joy.  Really,  she 
was  a  lucky  girl,  and  Rawlings  was  certainly  a  fine, 
liberal  man.  He  must  like  her  a  lot.  Hadn't  May  Wilson 
said  that  he  almost  never  went  out  with  any  of  the  girls. 
True,  there  was  Laura  Mitchell,  but  then  she  was  an 
old  maid  (she  was  twenty-six  years  old)  and,  at  any 


100  THE    CHOICE 

rate,  May  had  said  that  he  only  went  out  with  Laura 
about  once  a  year  and  here  he  was  out  with  her 
(Asenath)  only  last  night  and  she  already  had  another 
invitation.  These  thoughts  and  many  more  of  the  same 
tenor  passed  through  her  mind  as  she  walked  home 
with  her  father  and  Susan.  During  the  meal,  she  said 
nothing  of  the  new  invitation,  but  repeated  her  con- 
versation with  Rawlings,  at  least  as  much  as  she  could 
remember,  to  Susan  on  the  way  to  Sunday  School. 

It  was  a  confirmation  of  what  Susan  had  seen  and 
it  added  to  her  trouble.  Asenath  did  not  notice  her 
friend's  altered  demeanor.  For  once,  she  was  talkative 
and  discussed  every  aspect  of  the  new  invitation, 
even  to  the  remote  possibility  of  getting  some  little 
thing  to  alter,  if  ever  so  slightly,  her  costume  of  the 
evening  before.  Gradually,  Susan  recovered  her  poise. 
She  said  to  herself  "there  are  others,"  but  she  was  not 
convinced,  and  there  remained  a  depression  which 
made  it  impossible  for  her  to  take  her  usual  lively 
interest  in  all  that  surrounded  her. 

Rawlings  came  neither  to  Sunday  School  nor  to  the 
evening  services.  He  remained  at  home,  complaining 
of  a  headache.  In  fact,  he  was  rather  acutely  miserable 
most  of  the  time.  He  was  full  of  regret  at  his  having 
been  carried  away  by  his  desire  to  see  Asenath  into 
publishing  his  preference  for  her.  Even  in  the  midst  of 
this  regret,  the  desire  to  see  her,  to  be  with  her  was  so 
strong  that  it  was  almost  painful.  He  called  himself  a 


THE    CHOICE  101 

silly  ass,  and  resolved  that  it  must  be  all  over  and 
done  with.  Philandering  of  any  kind  was  out  of  his 
line.  He  had  no  time  for  frivolity.  He  must  make  his 
way  in  the  world.  No,  he  would  not  see  her  again, 
even  if  he  had  to  give  up  his  carefully  established 
position  in  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church  and  begin 
afresh  elsewhere. 

And  then,  having  made  this  resolution,  he  felt 
much  better,  which  is  only,  in  this  instance,  another 
way  of  saying  that  he  felt  much  worse.  What  he 
actually  wanted  was  Asenath,  and  not  to  be  deprived 
of  her,  and  what  he  merely  thought  he  wanted  was  his 
independence. 

Then,  suddenly,  he  remembered  his  invitation  to 
Asenath  made  only  this  morning.  He  was  so  delighted 
at  the  thought  of  this  obligation  to  see  her  again  that 
he  forgot  that  only  a  moment  before  he  had  been 
gravely  admiring  his  own  firmness  in  determining  not 
to  see  her  again. 

He  wondered  how  soon  it  would  be  possible  to  make 
the  invitation  effective. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

RVWLINGS  saw  Asenath  at  church  on  Wednes- 
day evening.  He  had  determined  to  invite  her 
to  accompany  him  to  an  illustrated  lecture  of 
travel  which  was  to  be  given  on  Thursday  evening  of 
the  next  week.  His  first  impulse  was  to  ask  her  to  go 
to  the  theatre  with  him,  but  he  remembered  that  she 
had  told  him  her  father's  strict  views  with  regard  to 
the  sinfulness  of  this  form  of  entertainment.  It  really 
made  no  difference  to  him  where  they  went.  One  thing 
was  as  good  as  another  provided  she  was  with  him. 

Of  course,  he  was  not  always  in  this  mood.  Half  of 
the  time,  he  was  intensely  disgusted  with  himself.  He 
could  not  understand  why  he  should  be  unable  to  cast 
aside  his  desire  for  this  girl.  His  pride  compelled  him 
to  look  upon  his  infatuation,  he  did  not  call  it  this, 
as  a  merely  temporary  condition,  and  was  confident 
that  it  would  soon  pass  off. 

But  the  rest  of  the  time,  he  simply  was  enthralled 
by  his  memory  of  her  and  did  not  reason  at  all. 

Asenath  accepted  his  invitation  gladly.  Lecture, 
concert  or  any  other  form  of  entertainment  was  equally 
welcome  to  her  as  long  as  it  meant  that  a  man,  and  this 
man,  perhaps,  rather  than  any  other,  was  offering  her, 
not  merely  the  luxury  she  had  once  tasted,  but  his 
companionship,  his  attention  as  well.  Of  course,  the 

102 


THECHOICE  103 

luxury  made  it  all  the  better.  Asenath  did  not  analyze 
these  feelings,  she  merely  experienced  them. 

They  were  together  only  a  few  minutes  on  Wednesday 
evening.  On  Sunday  morning,  Rawlings  did  not  come 
to  church  at  all.  In  the  afternoon,  he  left  without 
speaking  to  Asenath,  and  on  Sunday  evening  she 
was  not  there;  Mrs.  McBride  had  a  headache  and 
wanted  Asenath  to  remain  with  her. 

Rawlings  saw  Asenath  again  for  a  little  while  on 
Wednesday  evening.  He  came  up  to  her  while  she  was 
in  the  company  of  Susan  and  May  Wilson.  The  talk 
was  brief  and  general,  and  he  came  away  utterly  un- 
satisfied. He  did  not  like  May  at  all,  and  he  did  not 
enjoy  the  prospect  of  having  her  discuss  his  attentions 
to  Asenath.  He  felt  as  though  there  had  been  a  number 
of  things  which  he  had  wished  to  mention  to  Asenath; 
he  could  not  remember  just  what  they  were  while  he 
was  with  her,  nor  could  he  do  so  now.  He  felt  that  he 
had  been  driven  away  from  her  by  the  presence  of  the 
other  two  girls,  particularly  May,  and  he  resented  her 
association  with  them.  He  could  not  understand  how 
she,  who,  even  at  the  first  glance,  outshone  them  in 
every  way,  could  be  willing  to  endure  their  society  at  all. 

The  invitation  for  the  lecture  had  not  included  din- 
ner. Rawlings  would  have  liked  to  have  had  this  addi- 
tional time  with  her,  but  feared  that  it  would  seem  as 
though  he  were  "laying  it  on  a  bit  too  thick,"  as  he 
expressed  it  to  himself.  Of  course,  he  called  for  her  in  a 


104  THE    CHOICE 

taxi  (Asenath  wondered  if  he  ever  walked)  and  when 
they  reached  the  hall  in  which  the  lecture  was  to  be 
given,  they  were  very  early.  This  gave  them  plenty  of 
time  for  talk. 

One  of  the  pauses  in  their  conversation  was  broken 
by  Asenath. 

"Do  you  know  a  man  named  Larned?"  she  asked. 

"Who?  Hal  Larned?" 

"Yes.  Harold  Prentis  Larned.  He's  a  professor  in  the 
High  School." 

"  Sure,  I  know  him.  We  went  to  school  together.  But 
I  haven't  seen  him  for  a  long  time.  Do  you  know  him?" 

"Yes." 

"Where  did  you  meet  him?" 

"At  my  Uncle  William's  farm  last  summer." 

"Dear  old  Hal.  He's  a  queer  fish,  isn't  he?" 

"  I  think  he's  grand,"  said  Asenath  with  much  more 
warmth  than  she  had  ever  shown  in  Rawlings'  presence. 

"Oh!  he's  all  right,"  said  Rawlings.  "I  only  meant 
that  he's  sort  of  unusual." 

Asenath  said  nothing,  and  Rawlings  suddenly  found 
that  he  was  very  curious  to  know  just  how  well  she 
knew  Larned  and  how  it  was  that  she  had  been  so  quick 
to  resent  his  being  called  queer.  What  on  earth  was 
coming  over  him,  he  wondered,  that  he  should  feel  dis- 
turbed merely  because  Asenath  showed  some  interest 
in  another  man.  But  this  self -questioning  did  not  relieve 
him  of  the  feeling  of  irritation.  Every  now  and  then, 


THE    CHOICE  105 

during  the  lecture,  this  idea  of  Asenath's  interest  in 
Larned  came  back  to  him  and  made  him  vaguely  uneasy. 

After  the  lecture  was  over,  he  proposed  dancing  and 
Asenath  readily  assented.  During  the  first  intermission, 
he  brought  up  the  subject  of  Larned  again. 

"You  were  at  your  uncle's  farm  for  several  weeks, 
weren't  you?"  he  asked. 

"Only  one  week,"  she  answered. 

"Was  Larned  there  all  that  time?" 

"Oh!  no.  Only  one  night  and  the  next  morning.  He 
was  out  in  an  automobile  with  another  man  and  they 
had  a  breakdown  right  in  front  of  Uncle  William's, 
and  they  stayed  there  until  the  new  machinery  came." 

"  I  see,"  said  Rawlings.  He  was  much  relieved. 

There  was  a  short  silence  which  was  broken  by 
Asenath. 

"Do  you  know  a  picture — ?"  she  began  and  then 
stopped.  She  was  going  to  ask  whether  Rawlings  thought 
she  resembled  the  picture  of  Madame  Vigee  le  Brun, 
but  she  was  afraid  to  attempt  the  pronunciation  of  the 
name. 

"Yes,"  said  Rawlings,  not  in  assent  but  in  encourage- 
ment so  that  she  might  proceed.  Anything  from  Asen- 
ath's lips  was  portentous  to  him. 

"Oh,  it's  nothing  particular,"  said  Asenath,  hoping  to 
escape  the  difficulty  she  feared. 

But  Rawlings'  interest  was  thoroughly  aroused. 

"What  picture?"  he  asked. 


106  THE    CHOICE 

"You  know — &  picture  of  a  lady  and  her  little  girl." 

"Is  it  one  of  the  Madonnas?"  he  asked. 

Asenath  was  very  hazy  on  Madonnas  and  feared  to 
commit  herself. 

"She  painted  it  herself,"  she  said;  "she  was  an  artist." 

"What  was  her  name?" 

Asenath  did  not  know  how  to  lie.  It  was  not  a  matter 
of  ethics  with  her,  but  one  of  technique  only. 

"It's  a  French  name.  I  can't  say  it." 

"Try  it,"  he  pleaded.  He  would  have  been  utterly 
unable  to  account  for  his  interest. 

"You'll  laugh  at  me,"  she  said  hesitatingly. 

"No,  I  won't,  really." 

"It's — it's — I  can't  say  it.  Please  don't  ask  me." 

"I  wish  you  would  try.  I  won't  laugh  at  you." 

Asenath  saw  no  escape.  She  must  make  the  attempt. 

"It's  Madame Viggy  lee  Brun,"she  said  desperately. 
She  pronounced  the  last  part  of  the  name  so  that  it 
rhymed  with  "bun."  She  knew  that  this  was  not  the 
way  Larned  had  said  it,  but  it  was  the  best  she  could  do. 
Really,  it  made  no  difference  in  this  case,  for  Rawlings 
had  never  heard  the  name.  Like  almost  every  one  else, 
he  had  seen  many  reproductions  of  the  picture,  but  he 
had  no  taste,  either  natural  or  acquired,  for  works  of 
art,  and,  while  he  would  have  recognized  the  picture 
immediately,  had  it  been  shown  him,  as  one  that  he  had 
often  seen  before,  it  was  in  his  memory  negatively 
only. 


THE    CHOICE  107 

The  name,  then,  not  communicating  anything  to  him, 
he  went  on: 

"Tell  me  about  it." 

"Do  you  know  what  picture  I  mean?"  she  asked. 

"In  a  general  way,  yes,"  he  said,  hoping  that  this 
would  pass. 

"Oh!  well.  It  don't  make  any  difference,"  she  said. 

But  he  pressed  her. 

"It's  just  foolishness,"  was  the  best  he  could  get 
from  her.  And  then  the  music  began  again,  which  meant 
dancing  instead  of  talk. 

On  the  way  home,  he  asked  her  again  to  tell  him  about 
the  picture,  and  at  last  she  said: 

"Mr.  Larned  told  me  I  looked  like  the  lady  in  the 
picture  and  he  sent  me  a  copy  of  it.  That's  all." 

"Will  you  show  it  to  me?"  he  asked,  wondering  just 
how  much  impression  Larned  had  made  on  her.  The 
fact  that  Larned  had  sent  her  the  picture  seemed  very 
significant  to  Rawlings,  although  it  is  extremely  doubt- 
ful whether  he  could  have  told  of  what  it  was  significant. 

Asenath  said  she  would  show  him  the  picture  when 
she  reached  home  if  he  would  come  into  the  house  for 
a  minute.  So,  when  the  taxi  stopped  in  front  of  McBrides' 
house,  he  got  out  and  went  in  with  her.  She  had  been 
given  the  door  key,  consequently  they  encountered 
neither  of  the  other  members  of  the  family. 

Asenath  lit  up  the  parlor  and  showed  him  in.  Then 
she  went  upstairs,  to  return  a  minute  later  with  he 


108  THECHOICE 

picture.  She  handed  it  to  Rawlings.  He  recognized  it  at 
once  as  quite  familiar,  but  now,  for  the  first  time,  was 
he  aware  of  its  beauty  and,  at  the  same  time,  of  its 
likeness  to  her. 

"Stand  over  here,  under  the  light,  so  that  I  can  see," 
he  said,  and,  as  he  spoke,  he  unconsciously  touched  her 
shoulder  with  a  gentle  pressure  indicating  the  direction. 

He  looked  at  her  fixedly  for  a  full  minute,  and  then 
again  at  the  picture. 

"It's  very  much  like  you,"  he  said  at  length.  "She's 
very  beautiful,  isn't  she?"  he  asked  quite  unconscious 
of  the  directness  of  the  compliment. 

But  it  was  not  too  direct  for  Asenath.  She  was  de- 
lighted and  her  smile  of  pleasure  told  him  that  he  had 
made  her  happy.  It  did  more,  it  intoxicated  him. 

"Asenath,"  he  said,  using  this  name  for  the  first 
time,  "you  are  the  most  beautiful — " 

"Oh!  Mr.  Rawlings,"  she  began,  feeling  that  it  was 
essential  to  offer  some  deprecation. 

"Don't  call  me  Mr.  Rawlings,  please.  Call  me  Jim, 
won't  you?  " 

"All  right,"  she  said,  "but—" 

"But  what?  "he  asked. 

"I  don't  know.  It  seems  so  strange." 

"What?" 

"That  you  should  be  so  nice  to  me." 

"Do  you  think  I'm  nice  to  you?" 

"You've  been  just  lovely.  I  don't  know  why." 


THE    CHOICE  109 

"Can't  you  imagine?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  she  answered,  truthfully. 

"Really?" 

"Really." 

"Doesn't  it  occur  to  you  that  I  might  like  you?" 

Asenath  was  silent.  She  was  totally  at  a  loss  for  an 
appropriate  answer.  She  looked  at  him  fixedly,  with  an 
expression  of  uncertainty,  but  above  all,  a  look  of  help- 
lessness, as  though  she  were  depending  on  him  for 
something  or  other,  she  didn't  know  what.  And  neither 
did  he.  He  saw  the  look  and,  misunderstanding  it,  took 
it  to  stand  for  her  admiration  of  his  strength.  He 
ascribed  her  silence  to  a  maidenly  modesty  which  he 
found  utterly  charming.  He  gave  her  ample  opportunity 
to  answer,  and  then  went  on: 

"You  don't  dislike  me,  I  hope." 

"Oh!  No!"  she  said  firmly.  She  would  have  liked  to 
say  more,  but  couldn't.  Instead  she  put  out  both  of  her 
hands,  a  gesture  so  appealing  to  Rawlings  that,  as  he 
took  them  in  his  own,  he  was  simply  intoxicated  with 
joy.  She  still  looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes,  and  he, 
scarcely  knowing  what  he  did,  brought  his  face  to  hers 
and  kissed  her  almost  abruptly. 

"Oh,  Asenath,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "you're  simply 
wonderful." 

"Am  I? "  she  asked;  she  was  both  pleased  and  puzzled. 
It  had  been  rather  nice  to  have  him  kiss  her,  but,  some- 
how or  other,  there  seemed  to  be  something  lacking. 


110  THE    CHOICE 

And  then  Rawlings  awoke  to  a  realization  of  what  he 
had  done,  taking  merely  his  own  standard  of  conduct 
into  account.  He  was  thoroughly  frightened  by  his  own 
action.  However,  that  action  had  been  accomplished 
and  there  was  no  undoing  it. 

"Are  you  glad?"  he  asked. 

"Glad? "she  queried. 

"Yes;  glad  at  what  has  come  to  us,"  he  said  rather 
solemnly. 

"Of  course  I  am,  but — "  She  wondered  why  he  was 
making  such  a  fuss  about  a  mere  kiss. 

"But  what?  "he  asked. 

She  thought  that  she  ought  to  make  some  kind  of  pro- 
test for  form's  sake,  so  she  said : 

"Do  you  think  it's  right?" 

"Of  course  I  do,"  said  Rawlings  much  more  stoutly 
than  was  warranted  by  his  actual  feeling  at  the  moment. 
"When  a  man  and  woman  love  each  other,  and 
there  are  no  real  reasons  against  it,  the  only  thing  for 
them  to  do  after  they  have  declared  their  love  is  to 
marry." 

It  began  to  dawn  upon  Asenath  that  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  wind  besides  a  mere  kiss.  It  gave  her  an 
unusual  kind  of  excitement.  It  was  expectancy,  on  a 
grand  scale,  at  the  very  moment  when  the  issue  is  to 
be  decided,  when  success  could  mean  only  triumph. 

They  looked  at  each  other  in  silence  for  a  brief 
instant.  Asenath  was  the  first  to  speak. 


THE    CHOICE  111 

"But  you  haven't  declared — "  She  stopped.  She  was 
afraid  to  go  on.  There  was  too  much  risk. 

"Not  in  words,  my  dear,"  he  answered.  "But  I  kissed 
you  and  to  me  a  kiss  is  a  declaration  of  love.  I  know  that 
there  are  men  who  look  upon  kissing  as  of  no  conse- 
quence, but  I  feel  that  only  engaged  people  have  the  right 
to  kiss  each  other.  And  so,  when  I  kissed  you,  it  was  a 
declaration  of  love,  in  the  fullest  sense." 

As  he  spoke,  certainty  came  to  her  and  with  it  a 
feeling  of  victory,  achievement.  She  was  radiantly 
happy  now.  Not  in  his  love,  for  she  had  little  or  no 
sense  of  that,  nor  in  any  love  for  him,  for  of  that  she 
had  none.  It  was  simply  having  won,  of  having  been 
chosen,  and  it  was  no  less  joyful  because  she  had  made 
no  effort,  nor  had  even  contemplated  it  as  a  possibility. 
What  would  her  folks  say;  what  would  Susan  say, 
when  she  announced  her  engagement  to  the  most 
desirable  eligible  of  their  acquaintance? 

"Are  you  happy?"  he  asked  again. 

"Oh!  Yes,"  she  answered.  "What  will  mamma  say, 
I  wonder?" 

"We'll  have  to  tell  her  at  once,"  he  answered.  "I 
mean  tomorrow.  I  can  come  up  tomorrow  evening. 
Or  perhaps  you  will  want  to  tell  her  yourself  before 
then." 

"No,"  she  said.  "I'd  much  rather  you'd  tell  her.  I 
won't  say  anything  until  you're  here."  She  had  a  fear 
that  she  might  make  some  mistake. 


112  THE    CHOICE 

"All  right,  my  dear,  just  as  you  say.  I'll  come  to- 
morrow evening.  Or  rather,  this  evening,  for  it's 
after  twelve.  I  must  be  going." 

Asenath  accompanied  him  to  the  door.  He  kissed 
her  again  and  said: 

"Good-night,  my  love.  God  bless  you." 

"Good-night,  Mist-^Jim." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A2NATH  closed  the  door  after  Rawlings'  taxi 
had  carried  him  away,  went  into  the  parlor, 
extinguished  the  light,  gathered  up  her  wraps 
and  went  into  her  room.  When  she  had  taken  off  her 
hat,  and  laid  it,  with  her  coat,  on  the  bed,  she  stood 
before  the  mirror  and  looked  long  and  fixedly  at  her 
reflection.  What  she  saw  pleased  her,  for  she  smiled 
encouragingly  at  the  image.  Finally  she  said,  in  a  low 
voice: 

"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Rawlings?" 

She  smiled  her  pleasure  at  the  sound,  and,  after  a 
parting  look  at  the  mirror,  she  sat  down  on  her  rocking 
chair,  to  think  it  all  over. 

How  wonderful  it  was  that  it  should  be  she  whom 
Mr.  Rawlings  loved.  She  caught  herself  with  a  start 
as  she  found  that  she  still  thought  of  him  as  Mr. 
Rawlings.  In  reparation,  she  repeated  the  idea  with 
the  name  of  Jim  substituted  for  the  formal  title.  It 
would  be  grand  to  be  Mrs.  Rawlings,  to  have  a  fine 
house,  and  servants,  and  fine  clothes,  and  an  auto- 
mobile, and  to  go  to  parties  and  dances. 

What  would  Susan  think  of  her  then?  Could  she  have 
Susan  for  an  associate?  Yes;  she  could  and  she  would. 
She  would  never  go  back  on  Susan.  How  about  telling 
Susan  in  the  morning?  She  would  be  sure  to  ask  her 

113 


114  THE    CHOICE 

all  about  the  evening.  Ought  she  tell  her?  Could  she 
tell  her  after  she  had  agreed  with  Jim  not  to  say  any- 
thing about  it  until  he  came  the  next  evening?  Wouldn't 
Susan  be  struck  when  she  heard  the  news?  How  would 
it  be  not  to  say  anything  until  she  had  her  ring?  Would 
he  bring  the  ring  at  once?  She  decided  that  he  would, 
and  then  she  fell  to  wondering  what  it  would  be  like. 
Oh!  she  was  surely  a  happy  girl. 

She  sat  for  a  long  time  and  turned  these  thoughts 
over  and  over  in  her  mind.  When  she  heard  the  clock 
strike  one,  she  got  up,  undressed  and  went  to  bed. 
She  lay  awake  for  a  short  time  only  and  then  slept 
like  the  tired  child  she  was. 

But  her  fiance  did  not  sleep.  All  night  long  he 
vacillated  between  extremes  of  joy  and  sadness.  When- 
ever he  thought  of  Asenath  he  was  exhilarated,  ecstatic, 
he  cared  for  no  one  else  in  the  world.  With  her  as  his 
wife,  it  did  not  matter  what  happened.  They  would 
be  happy.  And  then  he  would  think  of  her  beauty,  of 
the  warmth  of  her  lips  as  he  kissed  them,  of  her  soft 
voice,  of  her  charming  smile.  Time  after  time,  during 
the  night,  he  was  dropping  off  to  sleep,  lulled  by  these 
dreams  of  happiness,  when  he  would  awake  sharply 
and  be  confronted  with  the  difference  between  his 
income  and  the  cost  of  the  kind  of  establishment  he 
thought  essential  to  gentility.  And  then  he  thought  of 
the  loss  of  his  freedom.  Not  because  he  had  ever  made 
any  special  use  of  it  for  the  accomplishment  of  anything 


THE    CHOICE  115 

in  particular,  but  just  because  he  was  going  to  lose  it. 
But,  most  of  all,  he  dreaded  the  necessity  of  telling  his 
sister  of  his  engagement.  He  knew  her  ideas  in  these 
matters  very  well.  She  had  married  a  man  of  means 
and  would  look  upon  a  marriage  into  a  family  like  the 
McBrides  with  consternation.  He  had  no  doubt  that 
Asenath's  charm  would  make  itself  felt  even  with  her, 
but  he  was  sure  that  it  would  not  be  enough,  and  so 
on  through  the  whole  night. 

However,  in  the  morning,  after  his  breakfast,  he 
felt  better.  He  was  thinking  now  about  Asenath,  and 
not  about  himself.  At  his  lunch  hour,  he  went  to  a 
jeweler  and  invested  about  one  and  a  half  months' 
salary  in  a  diamond  ring.  With  that  in  his  possession, 
he  felt  that  he  had  burned  his  bridges  behind  him  and 
was  ready  to  go  on.  The  die  was  cast. 

As  the  afternoon  wore  on,  he  saw  only  happiness  in 
store  for  him.  He  was  not  going  to  be  moved  by  any- 
thing that  anyone  might  say  or  think.  After  all,  he 
loved  Asenath,  of  that  he  was  as  sure  as  though  it  were 
a  perfectly  easy  thing  about  which  to  reach  a  final 
decision.  If  they  could  not  have  all  of  the  luxuries  at 
first,  what  did  it  matter?  Besides,  Asenath  surely  was 
accustomed  to  living  simply.  They  would  have  plenty 
and  to  spare. 

Asenath's  day  was  blissful  in  the  extreme  except  at 
lunch  time,  when  she  had  to  meet  Susan's  searching 
questioning.  Her  work,  it  is  true,  was  not  quite  up 


116  THE    CHOICE 

to  her  usual  high  standard,  but  she  was  not  conscious 
of  it,  nor  was  her  superior's  attention  directed  to  it. 
All  day  long,  through  her  mind  echoed  and  re-echoed 
"I'm  engaged"  with  hazy  pictures  of  the  magnificent 
life  she  would  lead  as  the  wife  of  a  rich  man. 

At  lunch  time,  Susan  was  upon  her  at  once  with 
demands  for  news  of  the  preceding  evening.  Asenath 
did  not  volunteer  any  information,  but,  at  the  same 
time,  she  did  not  fail  to  answer  any  of  Susan's  questions 
directly.  Her  answers  were  short  and  were  confined 
strictly  to  the  subject  of  the  question.  Consequently, 
Susan  was  thrown  upon  her  own  imagination  entirely. 
Finally,  she  said : 

"Was  that  all  that  happened?"  Asenath  had  only 
taken  her  to  the  point  of  their  coming  home  in  the  taxi. 

"No,"  she  answered. 

"Did  he  say  anything  particular  in  the  taxi?" 

"No;  we  just  talked." 

"What  about?" 

"I  don't  remember  exactly.  Oh!  yes,  he  was  telling 
me  about  a  girl  friend  of  his  who's  such  a  fine  dancer." 

"Did  he  go  right  away  after  he  brought  you  home?" 

"No,  he  came  into  the  house  for  a  little  while." 

Asenath  then  told  her  about  showing  Rawlings  the 
picture. 

"Did  he  think  it  looked  like  you?"  Susan  asked. 

"Yes;  and  he  said  it  was  beautiful." 

"He  ain't  a  bit  crazy  about  you,  is  he?" 


THE    CHOICE  117 

This  was  embarrassing.  Asenath  was  so  much  in 
doubt  as  to  what  to  say  that  she  remained  silent.  Susan 
went  on: 

"Did  he  say  anything  about  seeing  you  again?" 

"Yes." 

"When?" 

"He's  coming  to  our  house  tonight." 

"Look  out,  Queenie;  the  first  thing  you  know  you'll 
be  engaged." 

Asenath  again  was  silent,  and  Susan  was  sure  that 
something  was  being  withheld  from  her. 

"What's  his  excuse  for  coming  so  soon?"  she  asked. 

"Excuse?" 

"Yes,  excuse.  A  fella  don't  call  on  a  girl  every  night 
without  some  excuse.  What's  his?" 

Asenath  again  took  refuge  in  silence.  She  felt  that 
she  was  bound  to  secrecy  and  she  could  not  think  of 
anything  that  would  satisfy  Susan's  curiosity  and  at 
the  same  time  hide  the  truth.  Susan's  suspicion  that 
something  was  afoot  became  conviction. 

"Why  don't  you  come  across  with  the  news?"  she 
asked. 

"Honest,"  said  Asenath,  "I'd  love  to  tell  you,  but 
I  promised  not  to  say  anything  yet." 

"Oh!  Tell  me,"  said  Susan.  "I'll  keep  it  dark.  I'll 
never  let  on  you  told  me." 

Asenath  again  took  refuge  in  silence.  She  was  torn 
by  conflicting  emotions.  She  wanted,  above  all  things, 


118  THE    CHOICE 

to  tell  Susan,  but  she  felt  that  she  must  not.  Finally 
she  said : 

"I'll  tell  you  everything  tomorrow.  You  know  how 
it  is." 

Susan  assented,  taking  Asenath's  last  statement  as 
an  intentional  admission  of  the  truth  while  holding  to 
the  letter  of  her  promise.  Asenath  was  relieved,  for  she 
thought  she  had  kept  her  word,  and,  while  she  feared 
Susan  might  suspect  something  of  the  actual  facts, 
it  could  not  be  possible  for  her  to  imagine  anything  so 
wonderful  as  what  really  had  happened. 

Asenath  was  in  some  doubt  during  the  afternoon  as 
to  the  advisability  of  informing  her  mother  of  Rawlings' 
coming.  There  had  been  no  chance  for  any  talk  between 
them  in  the  morning,  for  Asenath  had  failed  to  get  up 
immediately  when  her  mother  called  her  and,  due  to 
the  late  hour  of  her  retiring,  promptly  fell  asleep  again. 
When  Mrs.  McBride  finally  got  her  out  of  bed,  she  was 
so  hurried  that  talk  was  impossible.  Asenath  knew 
that  her  mother  would  question  her  minutely  with 
regard  to  the  doings  of  the  evening  before,  and,  if  she 
were  given  any  hint  of  Rawlings'  intention,  it  would 
be  impossible  for  Asenath  to  put  her  off  as  she  had 
Susan.  Although  she  turned  this  problem  over  in  her 
mind  many  times,  she  was  unable  to  reach  a  decision  and 
devoted  her  thoughts  to  more  interesting  things,  among 
which  the  engagement  ring  was  easily  the  most  attractive. 

The  McBrides  ate  their  evening  meal  early.  On  this 


THE    CHOICE  119 

particular  evening  Asenath  happened  to  meet  her 
father  at  the  street  corner  where  he  alighted  from  the 
trolley.  As  McBride's  entrance  was  the  signal  for  the 
meal,  they  sat  down  almost  immediately.  It  was  a  rule 
with  the  women  of  the  family  not  to  introduce  subjects 
of  conversation  in  McBride's  presence.  He  invariably 
took  the  initiative,  and  when  a  subject  was  exhausted, 
they  ate  in  silence  until  he  offered  another.  This  even- 
ing, he  asked  Asenath  if  the  lecture  had  been  good, 
what  time  she  had  come  home,  and  where  they  had 
been  during  the  time  which  elapsed  from  the  end  of 
the  lecture  and  their  return.  Asenath  answered  briefly 
without,  of  course,  referring  to  their  dancing. 

After  supper,  when  it  was  time  to  clear  up,  Asenath 
asked  her  mother  if  she  would  mind  doing  the  work 
alone,  as  she  wanted  to  change  her  clothes. 

Mrs.  McBride  asked: 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"  I  ain't  going  anywhere,"  said  Asenath,  "but  I  want 
to  get  out  of  these  clothes  I've  been  in  all  day.  You  don't 
mind?" 

Mrs.  McBride  marveled,  but  said  nothing.  Since 
Asenath  had  been  at  the  Telephone  Company,  she  had 
been  of  little  help  in  the  house.  Mrs.  McBride  had 
observed  her  increasing  delinquency  in  this  respect,  but 
had  not  made  any  question  of  it.  Asenath  usually  had 
the  grace  to  obtain  her  mother's  consent,  and  that  was 
a  distinctly  mitigating  circumstance. 


120  THECHOICE 

Mrs.  McBride  was  curious  to  learn  the  details  of 
Asenath's  evening  with  Rawlings.  She  cherished  an 
ambition  in  the  outcome  of  this  friendship  and,  there- 
fore, hurried  with  her  dishes,  with  the  result  that  at 
quarter  to  eight  she  was  at  Asenath's  door  claiming 
admission. 

She  was  much  surprised  to  find  Asenath  in  her  best 
dress,  engaged  in  adding  some  final  touches  to  her 
toilette. 

"What's  the  idea?"  she  cried.  "What  are  you  getting 
all  dressed  up  for?" 

"What  time  is  it?"  asked  Asenath,  ignoring  her 
mother's  question. 

"It's  nearly  eight  o'clock.  What's  going  on?" 

"Oh!  nothing,  mamma.  Can't  I  get  dressed  up  if  I 
want  to?" 

"Is  that  the  way  to  answer  your  mother?"  inquired 
that  lady  with  some  asperity. 

Asenath  did  not  deign  to  answer.  Instead  she  went 
on  with  the  arrangement  of  her  collar.  Mrs.  McBride 
stood  for  a  little  while  awaiting  a  reply  to  her  last 
inquiry,  but,  receiving  none,  and  having  had  consider- 
able experience  of  the  difficulty  of  making  Asenath  answer 
when  she  was  unwilling  to  do  so,  remembered  her  origi- 
nal errand,  and  dropping  into  a  chair,  said  amiably: 

"Tell  me  about  last  night." 

Asenath  began  to  tell  her  mother  of  the  happenings 
of  the  evening  before.  She  went  into  fine  detail;  detail 


THE    CHOICE  121 

of  the  catalogue  variety,  and  not  in  any  way  interpre- 
tive. Mrs.  McBride  interrupted  her  from  time  to  time 
with  questions  which  were  answered  either  monosyllab- 
ically  or  not  at  all.  Finally  Asenath  lost  patience  and 
said  petulantly: 

"You  ask  me  to  tell  you  and  then  you  keep  on  butting 
in." 

"My!  but  you're  touchy  this  evening,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  McBride. 

Just  then  the  front  doorbell  rang.  The  two  women 
were  silent,  listening  to  McBride's  footsteps  as  he 
went  to  open  the  door.  They  strained  to  hear  what 
passed  between  McBride  and  the  caller,  so  that  they 
might  identify  him.  A  full  second  after  Asenath  knew 
that  her  expectation  had  been  realized,  Mrs.  McBride 
loudly  whispered : 

"  It  sounds  like  Mr.  Rawlings." 

"  It  is  him,"  said  Asenath. 

Just  then  Mr.  McBride  called  to  her  to  come  down, 
and  she  went.  As  she  left  the  room,  she  said  to  her 
mother: 

"You'd  better  dress." 

Mrs.  McBride  was  completely  mystified.  Could  it  be 
possible  that — she  was  so  much  excited  that  she  did  not 
dare  to  put  the  question  to  herself. 

"Asenath,"  she  called. 

But  Asenath  was  on  her  way  down  the  stairs  and  did 
not  answer. 


CHAPTER  XV 

WHEN  Asenath  came  into  the  parlor,  where  her 
father  and  Rawlings  were  conversing,  she  was 
actively  aware,  perhaps  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life,  that  McBride  was  without  his  coat.  She  knew  in  a 
general  way  that  he  always  ate  his  supper  with  this 
garment  removed,  and  she  might  have  known  that  he 
would  not  put  it  on  to  answer  the  ring  of  the  doorbell. 
It  was  the  sight  of  him  sitting  with  the  well-groomed 
Rawlings  that  brought  it  forcibly  to  her  attention.  She 
had  a  fearful  sense  of  shame.  She  wanted  to  apologize 
for  him  but  knew  not  how. 

It  had  shocked  Rawlings,  too.  He  had  come  to  the 
house  with  joy  in  his  heart.  All  of  his  doubts  had  van- 
ished as  the  time  approached  for  seeing  Asenath  and 
claiming  her  for  his  own.  His  excitement  as  he  rang  the 
doorbell  was  intense.  He  could  feel  the  beating  of  his 
heart  and  he  experienced  a  sort  of  choking  which  made 
him  take  voluntary  deep  breaths. 

When  the  door  opened,  the  sight  of  McBride  in  his 
shirt  sleeves  disconcerted  him.  He  wanted  to  run  away. 
He  had  come  as  to  a  temple  in  which  was  enshrined 
a  beautiful  goddess,  and  he  entered  the  house  of  an 
ordinary  workingman  who  was  innocent  of  the  com- 
monest niceties  of  etiquette  as  understood  by  James 
Rawlings.  Even  McBride's  fairly  civil  salutation  did 

122 


THE    CHOICE  123 

not  reassure  him.  Had  it  been  more  cordial,  he  might  have 
felt  easier,  but  McBride  was  plainly  astonished  to  see 
him,  and  his  salutation  did  not  cover  the  question  which 
was  plainly  evident  in  his  expression.  In  fact,  he  wondered 
what  on  earth  could  have  brought  Rawlings  again  so  soon. 

Their  conversation,  which  lasted  for  only  a  few 
moments,  was  of  the  most  perfunctory  order.  Both  men 
were  uneasy  and  did  not  touch  upon  either  of  the  two 
subjects  in  which  they  were  both  interested,  Asenath 
and  the  church. 

As  soon  as  Asenath  came  into  the  room,  McBride  left. 
This  was  his  etiquette.  He  had  no  sooner  gone  than 
Rawlings  forgot  him  entirely  in  his  joy  at  being  with 
Asenath.  He  came  over  to  her  and  embraced  her  with 
warmth.  She  accepted  the  evidence  of  his  affection  with 
complete  outward  calmness,  although  inwardly  she  was 
excited. 

"You  look  perfectly  beautiful  this  evening,"  he  said 
at  length. 

She  showed  her  pleasure  plainly.  As  usual,  she  would 
have  liked  to  make  some  disclaimer  but  could  not  think 
of  any.  However,  she  determined  to  make  some  return, 
and  said: 

"That's  a  pretty  tie  you  have  on." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  he  said,  delighted  that  she  had 
noticed  it.  He  was  very  particular  in  the  choice  of  his 
neckwear  and  had  taken  special  pains  in  selecting  the 
one  he  was  wearing  this  evening. 


124  THE    CHOICE 

Neither  of  them  said  anything  noteworthy  until  Raw- 
lings  asked  Asenath  in  what  manner  she  wished  to 
communicate  the  news  to  her  parents. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she  said;  "what  do  you  think?" 

"I  suppose  you  had  better  ask  them  to  come  in  here 
and  then  we  can  tell  them.  Do  you  want  to  do  the 
talking?" 

"Oh!  no,"  she  said.  "You  do  it." 

"All  right,"  he  answered. 

Asenath  left  the  room  and  during  her  absence  Raw- 
lings  tried  to  give  form  to  the  statement  he  was  about 
to  make.  Every  phrase  that  came  into  his  mind  seemed 
either  too  grandiloquent  or  too  ordinary. 

Asenath  was  gone  for  perhaps  two  or  three  minutes, 
but  it  seemed  much  longer  to  Rawlings.  She  went  first 
to  the  dining  room,  where  her  father  was  reading  the 
evening  paper. 

"Papa,"  she  said,  "Mr.  Rawlings  wants  to  see  you 
and  mamma." 

"What  for?  "he  asked. 

"He'll  tell  you.  Wait  'til  I  tell  mamma." 

"What's  he  doing  here  again  so  soon?"  queried  Mr. 
McBride;  "he  was  here  only  last  night." 

But  Asenath  had  vanished.  She  went  to  her  mother's 
room,  where  that  lady,  in  obedience  to  her  daughter's 
command,  was  completing  her  toilette. 

"Aren't  you  dressed  yet?"  asked  Asenath,  rather 
sharply. 


THE    CHOICE  125 

"I'll  be  through  in  a  moment.  What  do  you  want?" 

"Mr.  Rawlings  wants  to  see  both  of  you  in  the  parlor. 
Hurry!  Won't  you?" 

"What's  he  want?"  inquired  Mrs.  McBride,  almost 
tremulously.  Could  it  be  possible — ?  but  again  she  feared 
to  put  the  question,  even  to  herself. 

"He'll  tell  you,"  answered  Asenath.  "Hurry,  please." 

She  rejoined  Rawlings  in  the  parlor.  "They'll  be  here 
in  a  moment,"  she  said. 

"Do  they  suspect  anything?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  said  Asenath.  "They  asked  what  you  wanted 
and  I  said  you'd  tell  them." 

"You  don't  think  they'll  make  any  objection?"  he 
asked. 

"Why,  what  could  they  object  to?  They  think  a  lot 
of  you!" 

"They  might  think  you're  too  young." 

This  was  something  that  had  not  occurred  to  Asenath 
and  she  had  no  answer  ready.  None  was  needed,  however, 
for  at  this  moment  McBride,  with  his  coat  on,  at  the 
suggestion  of  his  spouse,  entered  accompanied  by  the 
partner  of  his  joys  and  sorrows. 

"Asenath  said  you  wanted  to  see  me,"  McBride 
began. 

"Yes,"  said  Rawlings.  "I  wanted  to  tell  you—"  He 
hesitated,  the  phrase  he  had  selected  at  the  last  moment 
having  gone  from  him  suddenly.  He  looked  at  Mrs. 
McBride. 


126  THE    CHOICE 

"Yes,"  said  that  lady  in  a  tremor  of  excitement. 

"The  fact  is,"  went  on  Rawlings,  "I  love  Asenath, 
and  she  loves  me,  and  we'd  like  your  consent.  I  know 
she's  very  young  but — " 

McBride  was  plainly  surprised.  He  had  not  thought 
of  Asenath,  to  him  a  mere  child,  a  very  young  girl,  as 
becoming  engaged  to  be  married.  Of  course,  Rawlings' 
request  that  he  and  his  wife  join  them  in  the  parlor  had 
suggested  this  possibility  but  he  had  rejected  it.  He  did 
not  know  what  to  say. 

"She's  very  young,"  he  said  finally. 

"She's  near  nineteen,"  said  Mrs.  McBride.  She  could 
scarce  contain  her  joy. 

"We  needn't  be  married  right  away,"  said  Rawlings. 
"I'm  willing  to  wait." 

McBride  turned  to  Asenath. 

"What  have  you  got  to  say?"  he  asked. 

"Please  say  'yes',"  she  answered. 

"Well,  James,"  said  McBride  after  a  short  pause, 
"you're  a  grown  man  and  I  guess  you  know  what  you're 
doing.  I  know  you're  a  God-fearing  man  and  that  you've 
got  the  right  way  of  living.  Asenath  is  only  a  child  and 
I  didn't  think  she'd  be  thinking  of  getting  married  for 
many  a  year  yet,  but  if  you've  made  up  your  minds, 
why,  God  bless  you." 

Mrs.  McBride  would  have  liked  to  put  in  a  word  here, 
but  she  had  no  opportunity. 

"Mr.  McBride,"  said  Rawlings  solemnly,  "I  promise, 


THE    CHOICE  127 

with  God's  help,  to  see  that  you  don't  regret  taking  me 
for  a  son-in-law,  and  you,  too,"  he  added  to  Mrs. 
McBride. 

"My  dear  son,"  said  that  lady  with  unction.  She  was 
anxious  for  the  interview  to  close  so  that  she  might  im- 
mediately communicate  with  her  sister  around  the  corner. 

Rawlings  felt  in  his  pocket  and  produced  the  box 
containing  the  ring.  He  opened  it  and  placed  the  ring 
on  the  finger  of  Asenath's  outstretched  hand. 

"Oh!  Isn't  it  grand?"  she  asked  her  mother. 

"It's  gorgeous,"  said  Mrs.  McBride  with  enthusiasm. 

Mr.  McBride  felt  that  he  was  no  longer  needed.  Trans- 
ports of  any  kind  were  unpleasant  to  him.  He  noted  with 
satisfaction  the  size  of  the  stone,  taking  it  as  an  indica- 
tion of  the  affluence  of  his  prospective  son-in-law. 

"You  and  Asenath'll  have  lots  to  talk  about,"  he 
said,  "so  we'd  better  be  going.  Come,  mother,"  and  they 
left  the  room. 

When  they  were  gone,  Rawlings  began  talking  about 
the  future  which  he  envisaged.  He  spoke  of  the  work 
they  would  do  together  in  the  church,  of  their  helpful- 
ness to  each  other,  of  their  mutual  trust.  He  even 
considered  the  prospect  of  children  and  his  ideas  on 
their  upbringing.  Asenath  listened  with  apparent 
attention,  but  really  she  was  not  more  than  half 
conscious  of  what  he  said.  She  was  in  the  clouds;  the 
ring  upon  her  finger,  the  tangible  evidence  of  her 
victory,  her  established  position,  engaged  most  of  her 


128 

thought.  At  that,  she  followed  Rawlings'  words  closely 
enough  to  enable  her  to  put  in  an  occasional  word  or 
two,  which  was  all  that  was  necessary. 

However,  when  he  took  up  the  subject  of  the  sort 
of  house  they  would  be  able  to  afford  and  the  economy 
they  would  be  compelled  to  practice,  Asenath's  active 
interest  was  aroused. 

"You  see,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "as  things  stand  now, 
I  have  only  my  salary  and  a  very  small  income  from 
my  grandmother's  estate.  Of  course,  we  won't  marry 
right  away,  but  even  then,  I  can  scarcely  hope  for  any 
great  increase  in  my  salary,  and  the  income  from  the 
estate  won't  change  at  all.  We  shall  have  to  live  very 
carefully." 

This  was  very  unpleasant  news  to  Asenath.  Living 
carefully  had  always  been  her  portion.  What  was  the 
use  of  getting  married  if  she  had  to  live  very  carefully? 
How  about  the  servants?  And  the  automobile?  She 
would  have  liked  to  speak  her  mind  to  Rawlings,  but 
she  could  not  do  it.  He  noticed  her  pre-occupation  and 
was  disturbed  by  it.  He  wondered  what  could  have 
been  the  cause,  and  paused  for  a  moment  to  give  her 
the  opportunity  to  speak.  But  Asenath  said  nothing, 
and  Rawlings  had  no  question  ready  for  her.  So,  taking 
her  left  hand  in  his  right,  as  they  were  sitting  side  by  side 
on  an  old  davenport,  he  resumed  his  talk.  As  he  did  so, 
Asenath  was  again  made  conscious  of  her  ring  and  was 
once  more  visibly  cheerful. 


THE    CHOICE  129 

"Of  course,"  he  went  on,  "three  thousand  dollars 
a  year  isn't  what  you  would  call  poverty,  although  it 
isn't  very  much." 

"Three  thousand  dollars!"  exclaimed  Asenath,  de- 
lighted. "That's  an  awful  lot  of  money."  To  her  the 
sum  seemed  simply  fabulous.  She  was  used  to  incomes 
that  were  computed  at  so  much  a  week.  Sixty  dollars 
in  one  week  would  also  have  appeared  enormous  to 
her,  although  it  would  have  seemed  infinitely  less  than 
three  thousand  a  year.  She  knew  her  father  received 
twenty-five  dollars  a  week  and  that  he  was  very  proud 
of  it.  She  was  thoroughly  reassured. 

Rawlings  saw  her  pleasure  and  was  much  eased 
thereby.  He  felt  that  he  had  been  quite  right  in  his  idea 
that  Asenath  would  not  expect  even  as  much  as  he 
could  give  her.  How  sweet  she  was  in  her  artless  sim- 
plicity; what  a  wonderful  woman  she  would  become 
under  his  guidance. 

Being  now  perfectly  comfortable  in  his  mind  with  regard 
to  their  financial  outlook,  he  continued  the  same  topic. 

"Some  day  I'll  come  in  for  quite  a  big  fortune.  I 
don't  know  just  how  much,  but  more  than  I'll  ever 
want.  It's  money  that  was  left  to  me  by  my  grand- 
father. My  Uncle  George  out  in  California  has  the  use 
of  it  during  his  life  and  when  he  dies  it  comes  to  me. 
But  there's  no  use  counting  on  that  for  a  good  many 
years,  for  Uncle  George  is  one  of  those  old  fellows  who'll 
live  forever." 


130  THE    CHOICE 

But  Asenath  had  no  interest  in  any  such  remote  con- 
tingency. Beyond  three  thousand  dollars  there  was  no 
counting  for  her;  it  was  terra  incognita. 

Rawlings  paused  and,  leaning  over,  kissed  her.  "Are 
you  happy?"  he  asked  tenderly. 

"Oh!  Yes,"  she  said  with  emphasis.  "Tell  me  about 
your  sister." 

This  was  an  unfortunate  subject  for  Rawlings  and 
the  last  thing  he  wanted  to  think  about.  For  the 
moment,  he  had  completely  forgotten  the  necessary 
discussion  of  his  engagement  with  her.  He  knew  it 
would  be  an  ordeal  and,  just  now,  he  wanted  to  be 
perfectly  happy.  However,  he  was  compelled  to  put 
the  best  face  possible  on  the  matter.  There  was  no 
advantage  whatever  in  advising  Asenath  of  the  resist- 
ance he  expected. 

"She's  a  very  fine  woman,"  he  said.  "I'm  sure  you'll 
be  ever  so  fond  of  each  other  when  you  get  to  be  well 
acquainted.  She  goes  out  a  good  deal  with  some  pretty 
swell  people,  and  I  don't  imagine  that  we'll  meet  a 
whole  lot  after  we're  married.  Raymond  Dunne,  that's 
my  brother-in-law,  comes  of  an  old  family  here  who  are 
right  in  it.  They've  all  got  piles  of  money.  Raymond's 
family  are  all  Episcopalians  and  when  Mary  married 
him,  she  naturally  went  to  his  church.  Did  you  ever 
see  her?  She  used  to  come  to  our  church  before  she 
was  married." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  Asenath.  "Is  she  pretty?" 


THE    CHOICE  131 

And  so  on  and  so  on.  Empty  as  the  conversation 
would  be  to  an  outsider,  to  the  participants  it  was 
interesting  in  the  highest  degree.  Rawlings  did  most 
of  the  talking  and  did  not  notice  that  he  did  so.  Asen- 
ath's  expression  told  him  plainly  how  enjoyable  she 
found  the  new  experience.  She  listened  with  an  air 
of  intentness  that  was  most  flattering;  she  accepted 
his  caresses  without  either  resistance  or  complete 
abandonment  and,  consequently,  when  he  left  her  at 
about  half -past  ten,  he  was  in  the  clouds  in  the  fullness 
of  his  joy. 

He  had  arranged  that  she  was  to  call  him  on  the 
telephone  the  next  day,  Saturday,  early  in  the  after- 
noon. Every  detail  of  this  appointment  had  been  gone 
over  thoroughly,  so  that  there  would  be  no  mistake  made 
on  either  side.  They  were  then  to  arrange  for  their  next 
meeting. 

Asenath  found  her  mother  awaiting  her  in  her  room 
after  Rawlings'  departure.  Mrs.  McBride  wanted  details 
and  she  heard  them,  at  least  to  the  extent  that  direct 
questioning  induced  them.  Consecutive,  orderly  narra- 
tive was  not  one  of  Asenath's  strong  points. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

SUSAN  had  no  doubt  whatever  that  Asenath  and 
Rawlings  were  engaged,  or,  if  not  actually  en- 
gaged, were  upon  the  point  of  being  so.  She  was 
quite  surprised,  now  that  she  knew  her  own  ambition  to 
be  hopeless,  to  find  that  she  was  not  really  unhappy. 
In  fact,  she  was  en  joying  the  relief  that  invariably  attends 
the  resolution  of  doubt  into  certainty.  She  was  not  in 
love,  had  never  been  in  love,  with  Rawlings.  He  had 
represented  "high  society"  to  her.  Naturally  he  had 
attracted  her;  he  was  of  the  opposite  sex  and  much 
better  than  the  average.  In  her  eyes,  he  was  rich,  edu- 
cated and  distinguished,  and  she  would  have  been  happy 
to  have  won  some  of  his  attention.  She  had  never  seri- 
ously contemplated  the  possibility  of  marriage.  That 
was  entirely  too  remote. 

Now  that  it  was  evident  that  he  was  to  marry  Asen- 
ath, Susan  saw  that  her  friendship  with  the  latter  must 
be  maintained  at  all  costs.  She  saw  that,  as  a  friend  of 
Asenath,  she  would  have  just  the  opportunity  she 
desired  to  make  acquaintances  of  the  right  sort  of 
people.  Susan  was  undoubtedly  a  climber,  but  who  is  not 
to  some  extent? 

Saturday  was  a  half  holiday  for  both  of  the  girls. 
Asenath 's  engagement  ring  had  created  some  comment 
on  the  part  of  the  girls  who  worked  on  either  side  of  her. 

132 


THE    CHOICE  133 

Rumor  travels  quickly,  and  it  was  only  a  few  minutes 
after  it  was  first  noticed  that  news  of  the  ring  reached 
Susan.  She  was  somewhat  surprised  that  the  affair  had 
moved  so  quickly  and  her  curiosity  as  to  the  details  was 
at  a  high  pitch. 

The  moment  she  was  free,  she  ran  to  the  dressing 
room,  where  Asenath  was  awaiting  her. 

"Oh!  Queenie!"  she  cried,  "I'm  so  glad." 

And  she  really  was.  She  kissed  Asenath  with  fervor. 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,"  she  said. 

"Ain't  it  a  beautiful  ring?"  asked  Asenath,  holding 
out  her  hand. 

"It  sure  is  some  rock,"  said  Susan  enthusiastically. 
"Go  on,  dearie,  tell  me  all  about  it.  I'm  just  crazy  to 
hear  what's  been  doing." 

"Oh!  There's  lots  to  tell,"  said  Asenath.  "It'll  take 
me  all  afternoon.  But  first,  I've  got  to  'phone  Jim.  I 
promised.  What  time  is  it?" 

"It's  five  after  one." 

"Gee!  I'm  late  already.  I  promised  sure  to  call  him 
at  one  sharp.  He'll  be  mad." 

"Well,  go  on.  I'll  wait  here." 

"No,  you  come  with  me." 

Asenath  quickly  had  Rawlings  on  the  telephone.  At 
the  sound  of  her  voice  he  brightened  up  and  became 
very  cheerful.  He  had  spent  a  very  miserable  morning. 
But  of  that  hereafter.  He  arranged  to  call  for  her  at 
three  o'clock  to  take  her  out  walking.  He  kept  her  at 


134 

the  telephone  for  fully  five  minutes,  during  all  of  which 
time  Susan  was  an  interested  listener.  It  was  quite 
possible  for  her  to  imagine  Rawlings'  part  in  the  con- 
versation. 

Asenath  asked  her  to  come  home  with  her  and  Susan 
readily  consented.  As  they  walked  up  the  street,  she 
began  her  account. 

"I  was  just  crazy  to  tell  you  all  about  it  yesterday," 
she  began,  "but  Jim  thought  I'd  better  not  tell  anybody 
until  after  he'd  been  up  to  the  house  to  talk  to  mamma 
and  papa,  because,  the  night  before,  they  were  both  in 
bed  sound  asleep,  and  it  all  happened  so  sudden  that  I 
guess  we  just  didn't  know  what  to  do." 

"Aren't  you  just  crazy  about  him?"  Susan  inquired. 

"Yes,  he's  just  grand  to  me,"  answered  Asenath. 

"How  did  he  propose?"  asked  Susan. 

Asenath  thought  for  a  moment.  Then  she  said: 

"He  didn't  propose  at  all.  He  just  kissed  me  and — " 
She  stopped.  She  was  in  doubt  as  to  the  advisability  of 
telling  Susan  that  she  had  attached  no  particular  impor- 
tance to  the  kiss.  As  she  reached  the  decision  not  to  tell 
her,  Susan's  impatience  to  hear  more  caused  her  to  say: 

"And  what?" 

"And  then  he  asked  me  if  I  was  glad  we  were  engaged 
and  I  told  him  'yes,  I  was,'  and  then  we  talked  about  lots 
of  things;  I  don't  remember  what  all." 

"That's  a  funny  way  to  propose.  How  did  he  come  to 
kiss  you?  Where  were  you?" 


THE    CHOICE  135 

"  In  our  parlor.  He  came  in  to  see  the  picture — I  told 
you  all  about  that  yesterday." 

"I  know,  but  what  came  in  between?" 

"He  said  'did  I  like  him/  and  I  said  'yes'." 

"And  what  then?" 

"Then  he  kissed  me." 

"Right  off?  Where  were  you?" 

"I  told  you  'in  the  parlor'." 

"  I  know  you  were  in  the  parlor,  but  were  you  sitting 
down  and  was  he  sitting  down  or  what?" 

"We  were  both  standing  up." 

"How  did  you  come  to  be  so  close  together?" 

"  I  don't  remember.  We  were  talking  and  he  took  my 
two  hands  and  then  he  kissed  me." 

Susan  was  not  to  be  denied,  however,  and  went  on 
with  her  questions  until  she  had  built  up  the  situation, 
mostly,  it  is  true,  out  of  her  own  imagination.  Then  fol- 
lowed other  questions  concerning  the  interview  between 
Rawlings  and  the  senior  McBrides,  and  by  the  time  they 
were  answered  they  had  reached  home  and  their  talk 
was  interrupted  until  after  lunch.  It  was  then  resumed 
in  Asenath's  room.  Susan  remained  with  her  friend  until 
a  few  minutes  before  three  and  then  departed. 

It  had  been  Rawlings'  intention  to  announce  his 
engagement  to  his  sister  when  he  arrived  home  on  Friday 
night,  should  she  still  be  visible.  Ordinarily,  this  might 
have  been  expected,  but  this  evening  it  happened  that 
she  had  gone  to  bed  early. 


136  THE    CHOICE 

It  was  not  a  disappointment  to  Rawlings  to  be  com- 
pelled to  postpone  his  announcement.  On  the  contrary 
he  was  delighted.  He  had  spent  a  very  happy  evening 
and  still  felt  the  thrill  which  Asenath's  presence  inva- 
riably brought  to  him.  He  did  not  want  to  break  the 
spell. 

In  the  morning,  however,  he  allowed  his  brother-in- 
law  to  leave  for  his  office  alone,  using  some  pretext  or 
other,  and,  as  soon  as  he  found  himself  alone  with  his 
sister,  they  were  still  at  the  breakfast  table,  he  said  to  her: 

"Mary,  I  have  some  news  for  you." 

"Yes,"  she  answered;  "I  hope  it's  good  news." 

"The  best  possible,"  said  Rawlings.  "I'm  engaged  to 
be  married." 

"Engaged!"  she  cried,  putting  down  the  spoon  she 
had  just  taken  up.  "You?" 

"Yes,  engaged.  Why  not?" 

"  But  you've  never  given  the  least  hint.  I  should  never 
have  guessed  it.  Who's  the  girl?" 

"MissMcBride." 

"McBride?  I  don't  know  any  McBrldes.  Who  are 
they?" 

"Don't  you  remember  the  McBride  who  attended 
our  church — our  old  church,  you  know?" 

"  But  you  can't  mean  them.  Why,  they're  very  ordi- 
nary people,  aren't  they?" 

"I  guess  you  might  call  them  ordinary,  but  they're 
very  fine  people  for  all  that,"  he  answered  stoutly. 


THE    CHOICE  137 

"I  don't  remember  their  daughter.  Or  is  there  more 
than  one?" 

"She's  an  only  child." 

"When  I  said  they  were  ordinary  people,"  she  re- 
sumed, after  her  interruption  of  herself,  "  I  didn't  mean 
anything — well,  anything  derogatory  to  their  characters 
or  anything  like  that.  But  if  I  have  any  recollection  of 
Mr.  McBride  at  all,  it  is  that  he  was  an  honest,  well- 
meaning,  religious  man,  perhaps  even  a  little  bigoted, 
but  for  all  that,  a  good  man,  one  worthy  of  respect.  But 
not  a  person  to  associate  with.  He's  uneducated,  igno- 
rant and,  as  far  as  manners  go,  I  suppose — well,  I  won't 
hurt  your  feelings.  Is  it  actually  an  engagement?"  she 
asked  suddenly. 

"Yes,  it  is,"  he  answered  firmly.  "There's  no  doubt 
that  most  of  what  you  say  about  Mr.  McBride  is  quite 
true.  I  know  it  as  well  as  you  do,  but  that  doesn't  alter 
the  fact  that  I'm  dead  in  love  with  Asenath,  and  I 
wouldn't  care  if  her  father  was  the  devil  himself .  I  want 
her,  and  I've  got  her  and  I'm  glad  of  it." 

"Well,  James,  if  you  feel  that  way  about  it,  I'm  sure 
I  wish  you  joy.  It's  by  no  means  the  sort  of  choice  I 
would  have  had  you  make,  but  it's  your  life  and  you 
ought  to  be  old  enough  to  know  your  own  mind.  By  the 
way,  how  old  is — what  did  you  say  her  name  was?" 

"Asenath.  She's  nearly  nineteen." 

"Tell  me  about  her.  How  long  have  you  known  her?" 

"  I've  known  her  in  a  way  for  a  couple  of  years,  just 


138  THE    CHOICE 

through  meeting  her  at  church,  you  know.  I  don't 
believe  I  ever  spoke  a  dozen  words  to  her  at  one  time 
until  a  couple  of  weeks  ago.  Then,  after  I  had  been  to 
McBrides'  one  evening  for  dinner,  I  wanted  to  make  some 
return,  and  I  invited  her  to  a  concert.  I  expected  to  be 
bored,  but  instead,  I  enjoyed  myself  more  than  I  ever 
had  in  my  whole  life.  She  is  so  sweet,  so  simple,  so  good 
that  it's  just — well,  refreshing.  After  that,  I  simply 
couldn't  get  her  out  of  my  mind,  and  the  other  night, 
without  any  intention  in  the  world,  I  proposed  to  her 
and  she  accepted.  Last  night  her  parents  consented, 
although  they  thought  she  was  too  young." 

"She  is,  much  too  young." 

"We  won't  be  married  immediately,"  he  said,  getting 
up  out  of  his  chair. 

"I've  heard  that  before.  I  don't  doubt  that  that's 
your  present  intention.  However,  as  I  said  before,  it's 
not  my  affair  and  I  surely  wish  you  every  happiness. 
You  won't  mind  your  old  worldly-wise  sister  croaking  a 
bit.  I  am  afraid  your  fall  was  a  bit  too  sudden.  I  don't 
know  the  girl,  of  course,  and  won't  make  up  my  mind 
about  her  in  advance.  I'm  sure  I  hope  she's  everything 
you  want  her  to  be.  When  can  we  come  to  see  her?" 

"I'm  going  to  see  her  this  afternoon  and  I'll  let  you 
know.  Thanks  very  much,  Mary;  I'm  sure  you'll  approve 
when  you  know  her  better." 

"We  won't  discuss  my  approval  just  now.  If  I  can 
give  it,  I'll  be  very  happy.  You  know  what  my  feeling  is." 


THECHOICE  139 

He  kissed  her  and  left  for  the  office.  He  was  very 
uncomfortable  all  morning.  He  felt  that  his  sister 
rather  pitied  him;  that  she  looked  upon  him  as  a  boy 
who  had  not  had  sufficient  self-control  to  determine 
so  momentous  a  matter  on  the  basis  of  reason.  He  tried 
to  justify  his  action  by  argument  with  himself,  but  failed 
miserably.  All  that  stood  out  was  Asenath's  beauty, 
her  softness,  her  desirability,  and  they  enthralled  him 
whenever  he  would  let  his  memory  dwell  on  them.  Most 
of  the  time,  however,  he  felt  wounded  in  his  most 
vulnerable  spot,  his  pride.  He  was  not  able  to  enjoy 
his  ordinary  feeling  of  complete  adequacy  to  meet  any 
situation.  He  was  no  longer  actively  concerned  with 
regard  to  the  financial  aspect.  That  had  sunk  into  the 
background.  Still,  it  formed  a  part  of  his  discomfort, 
although  he  was  not  conscious  of  it.  Once  or  twice  he 
found  himself  wishing  that  he  were  out  of  the  whole 
affair,  but,  immediately  upon  the  formation  of  the  idea, 
he  felt  it  was  disloyal,  and  despised  himself  because  it 
had  even  occurred  to  him. 

However,  when  Asenath  telephoned  him  at  a  little 
after  one,  all  of  these  distressing  reflections  were  dis- 
pelled by  the  mere  sound  of  her  voice,  and  he  went  to 
his  lunch  joyfully  and  ate  with  his  ordinary  good 
appetite. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

"W  "W  THEN  Rawlings  reached  McBrides'  house,  he 
%  /%/  found  Asenath  ready  to  start  immediately.  He 

T  T  exchanged  a  few  words  with  Mrs.  McBride, 
who  invited  him  to  take  supper  with  them,  which  he 
agreed  to  do,  and  then  they  set  off. 

They  took  the  trolley  to  the  city  park  and  then 
began  their  walk.  The  day  was  beautiful.  There  was 
just  a  touch  of  frost  in  the  air  which  added  zest  to  their 
enjoyment  of  the  walk.  The  trees  still  retained  much  of 
their  foliage,  brilliant  in  its  striking  mixture  of  colors. 
Asenath  saw  this  beauty  and  felt  it  deeply,  but  Rawlings 
saw  only  Asenath.  Their  conversation  was  devoted 
mainly  to  themselves,  that  is,  Rawlings,  who  did  almost 
all  of  the  talking,  told  her  of  his  interests,  his  occupation, 
his  likes  and  dislikes,  and  so  on  indefinitely.  Asenath  was 
interested  in  everything  he  had  to  say  and  showed  her 
interest  plainly.  Rawlings  found  it  was  so  easy  to  talk 
to  her  that  he  did  not  notice  that  she  furnished  almost 
none  of  the  conversation.  It  is  true  that  occasionally 
she  would  ask  a  simple  question,  but  that  was  all. 

At  length  he  came  to  a  description  of  his  home  life 
with  his  sister  and  then  he  remembered  that  he  was 
to  make  an  engagement  for  her  to  call  on  Asenath.  He 
asked  her  when  it  would  suit  her  to  have  them. 

Asenath  was  not  sure  and  suggested  that  they  had 

140 


THE    CHOICE  141 

better  talk  it  over  with  her  parents.  She  did  not  tell 
him  that  she  stood  rather  in  awe  of  Mrs.  Dunne  and 
would  have  preferred  not  seeing  her  at  all  for  the 
present.  Besides,  it  seemed  more  fitting  that  the 
McBrides  call  on  her,  in  view  of  her  superior  position. 
But  when  Rawlings  mentioned  his  sister's  call  on  the 
McBrides  as  the  next  step,  Asenath  accepted  that  as 
final,  although  she  could  not  understand  the  reason. 

When  this  matter  had  been  temporarily  disposed  of, 
they  walked  in  silence  for  a  while.  Rawlings  broke  it  by 
asking: 

"Now  tell  me,  my  dear,  what  do  you  do  in  the 
evenings?" 

"Oh!  Nothing  much.  Sometimes  I  sew,  or  I  help 
mamma  with  the  house  work,  or  we  just  sit  around 
and  talk." 

"Do  you  read  much?" 

"No,  not  much." 

"Are  you  fond  of  reading?" 

"I  never  have  any  time  to  read." 

"Not  at  all?" 

"Sometimes  I  look  at  some  magazines." 

"Which  ones?" 

"The  Ladies'  Home  Journal  and  the  Delineator." 

"Don't  you  ever  read  any  books?" 

"No,  we  haven't  got  any  except  some  old  books  of 
papa's.  I  don't  think  I'd  care  much  for  them." 

"Have  you  ever  read  any  of  Dickens?" 


142  THE    CHOICE 

"No." 

"Thackeray?" 

"No,  I  haven't  read  anything.  I  guess  I'm  awful 
dumb." 

"Oh!  No,  you're  not,  but  you've  never  had  any 
chance." 

"That's  so,"  said  Asenath,  much  relieved. 

"I'm  going  to  send  you  some  books  and  you'll  find 
out  what  a  great  pleasure  there  is  in  reading." 

"Oh!  That'll  be  lovely." 

Rawlings,  it  may  be  observed,  had  no  taste  for 
literature  beyond  the  most  popular  variety  of  fiction. 
Indeed,  he  read  very  little  of  that.  When  he  was  about 
sixteen,  he  had  been  compelled  to  read  Oliver  Twist, 
David  Copperfield,  Vanity  Fair  and  Ivanhoe.  This  had 
been  such  a  great  and  burdensome  task  at  the  time 
that,  looking  at  it  in  retrospect,  he  rather  felt  that  he 
had  fairly  well  covered  all  of  the  so-called  standard 
English  fiction. 

As  they  approached  the  exit  to  the  park,  he  asked 
her  suddenly: 

"Are  you  sure  you  love  me?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered;  "you've  been  just  grand  to  me." 

Somehow  or  other  the  adjective  rather  jarred  on  him, 
but  a  look  at  her  beautiful  face  and  her  earnest  expres- 
sion of  sincerity  restored  his  equilibrium.  He  made  a 
mental  note  that,  a  little  later,  he  would  get  her  out 
of  the  habit  of  expressing  herself  thus.  He  went  on: 


THE    CHOICE  143 

"But,  my  dear,  that  isn't  what  I  mean  by  love.  I 
love  you  just  because  you're  you,  because  when  I'm 
with  you,  I'm  perfectly  happy,  and  when  I'm  away 
from  you,  I'm  always  wishing  to  be  with  you.  Is  that 
the  way  you  feel  about  me?" 

"Yes,"  said  Asenath,  "but  I  couldn't  say  it  like  that. 
I  just  feel  things  and  when  I  want  to  say  them,  they 
just  won't  come  out." 

Asenath  believed  herself  in  love  with  Rawlings.  In 
the  first  place  she  liked  him.  She  enjoyed  his  evident 
admiration;  she  was  delighted  with  her  position  as 
his  fiance'e;  he  entertained  her.  In  short,  he  was  a 
man  who  paid  her  homage  and  it  would  be  impossible 
to  conceive  that  this  could  fail  to  delight  her.  She  liked 
to  be  with  him,  but  she  was  quite  content  to  be  away 
from  him,  provided  she  had  something  else  to  do  that 
interested  her.  For  instance,  this  very  afternoon,  she 
had  enjoyed  her  talk  with  Susan  immensely.  She  was 
very  fond  of  Susan  and  she  had  had  an  intense  pleasure 
in  the  flattering  interest  Susan  had  shown  in  her  friend's 
good  fortune.  When  Rawlings  had  told  her  how  he 
felt,  it  seemed  to  her  that  her  own  emotion  must  be 
what  he  described.  But,  even  if  this  was  the  case,  and 
it  wasn't,  his  words  were  the  first  intimation  to  her  of 
what  she  thenceforward  believed  was  her  own  senti- 
ment. 

They  returned  to  McBrides'  shortly  before  the  time 
of  their  evening  meal.  As  soon  as  they  were  in  the  house 


144  THE    CHOICE 

and  Asenath  was  released  from  Rawlings'  embrace,  she 
said: 

"You  don't  mind  if  I  run  up  to  change  my  dress 
so's  I  can  help  mamma  with  the  dishes  after  supper?" 

Rawlings  assured  her  that  he  thought  it  was  fine 
of  her  to  be  so  thoughtful  of  her  mother.  He  was 
still  under  the  intoxication  which  embracing  her  had 
brought  upon  him,  and  saw  her  as  almost  superhuman. 
He  walked  up  and  down  the  parlor  while  she  was  gone. 
He  was  much  too  happy  to  be  able  to  sit  still. 

Asenath  returned  sooner  than  he  had  expected.  He 
noted  that  she  had  not  changed  her  dress,  which  she 
explained  by  the  statement  that  her  mother  would 
not  hear  of  her  helping  her  this  evening. 

"You  are  certainly  devoted  to  each  other,  aren't 
you?"  Rawlings  asked. 

Asenath  looked  at  him  before  replying.  "You  wouldn't 
think  so  sometimes,"  she  said.  "She  gets  awful  cranky." 

Rawlings  felt  that  a  false  note  had  been  struck.  But 
his  sensation  was  momentary  only.  She  smiled  at  him 
and  went  on: 

"You  ought  to  hear  the  way  she  goes  on  when  she 
gets  mad.  But  it  don't  last  long  with  her.  She  gets 
over  it  in  a  few  minutes.  And  then  she  is  just  as  sweet 
as  sugar." 

This  seemed  to  Rawlings  as  rather  lacking  in  filial 
respect,  but  he  made  no  comment.  He  would  not  have 
known  how.  There  was  nothing  definitely  disrespectful 


THE    CHOICE  145 

in  what  she  had  said.  He  tried  to  seize  upon  the  reason 
for  his  critical  attitude  but  it  eluded  him. 

A  moment  later,  Mrs.  McBride  called  them  to  supper. 
During  the  meal,  Rawlings  did  most  of  the  talking, 
addressing  himself  principally  to  McBride,  who  answered 
him  from  time  to  time  with  gravity  and  much  positive- 
ness.  It  was  arranged  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dunne  were 
to  come  either  Monday  or  Tuesday  evening,  whichever 
they  found  more  convenient. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  meal,  Rawlings  and  Asenath 
went  into  the  parlor.  They  talked  about  many  things, 
the  same  things,  in  fact,  that  they  had  discussed  before 
at  each  of  their  meetings.  For  a  large  part  of  the  time 
Rawlings  held  Asenath's  hand.  He  was  perfectly  bliss- 
ful. He  had  no  sense  of  the  fact  that  their  talk  was  an 
almost  exact  repetition  of  their  former  conversations. 
Actually,  they  talked  to  justify  their  presence  in  each 
other's  company  and  not  because  they  were  particu- 
larly interested  in  the  subjects  that  they  discussed. 

At  about  eight  o'clock,  Asenath  wanted  a  change. 
She  did  not  know  exactly  what,  but  she  was  conscious 
of  a  certain  amount  of  restlessness.  It  would  be  much 
too  strong  a  statement  to  say  that  she  was  beginning  to 
be  somewhat  bored,  but,  although  she  did  not  know  it,  it 
was  in  that  general  direction.  Their  talk  had  been  punc- 
tuated by  silences  which  gradually  increased  in  length. 

Finally,  Asenath  ended  one  quite  long  pause  in  the 
conversation  by  saying: 


146  THE    CHOICE 

"Let's  do  something." 

"What  do  you  want  to  do?"  he  asked. 

"Oh!  Anything." 

Rawlings  thought  for  a  few  minutes.  Then  he  said : 

"Do  you  care  for  moving  pictures?" 

"I  love  them." 

"Have  you  an  evening  paper?" 

"Papa's  got  one.  I'll  get  it." 

Asenath  left  and  returned  shortly  with  the  paper  and 
together  they  decided  on  the  picture  they  wanted  to 
see.  This  means  that  Rawlings  selected  one  that  he 
thought  would  please  them  and  she  consented  readily. 
Any  one  would  have  suited  her. 

They  saw  the  picture,  and  then  they  went  to  a  cafe 
where  they  danced  and  came  home  in  a  taxi.  It  was  a 
highly  successful  evening.  Asenath  had  enjoyed  the 
picture,  which  happened  to  be  a  particularly  stupid 
thing;  she  loved  to  dance,  and  the  taxi  was  luxury  in 
the  extreme.  And  Rawlings  had  been  in  the  fever  of 
delight  which  her  presence  always  caused  him. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  Dunnes  called  on  the  McBrides  on  Tuesday 
evening.  The  visit  was  comparatively  short  and 
very  satisfactory  to  everyone  concerned  except 
Rawlings,  who  was  self-conscious  to  a  degree.  He  was 
more  uncomfortable  than  he  had  ever  been  in  his  life. 
He  could  not  help  observing  the  contrast  between  the 
bearing  of  the  two  families,  but  it  appeared  to  him  to 
be  much  greater  than  it  really  was. 

It  was  a  satisfactory  visit  for  the  Dunnes  because 
it  convinced  them  that  their  objections  to  the  match 
were  fully  justified.  They  would  both  have  said  that 
it  would  have  been  a  great  pleasure  to  have  found 
themselves  in  error,  not  as  to  the  rule,  of  course,  but 
in  this  particular  case.  That  applied  to  the  parents. 
As  for  Asenath,  they  were  both  quite  charmed.  She  was 
beautiful  as  always,  and  bore  herself  with  great  modesty, 
so  it  appeared  to  them.  They  set  down  her  silence, 
which  she  maintained  except  when  a  question  was  put 
to  her  directly,  to  girlish  shyness. 

On  the  way  home  they  agreed  that  it  was  bad  enough 
for  James  to  marry  into  a  family  like  that,  but,  at  any 
rate,  the  girl  was  young,  seemed  to  be  very  modest  and 
unquestionably  could  be  taught.  And  she  undoubtedly 
was  a  beauty.  Nobody  could  find  fault  with  James' 
taste  in  this  respect.  It  was  a  pity,  however,  that  he 

147 


148  THE    CHOICE 

hadn't  picked  out  somebody  who  could  have  been  more 
of  a  help  to  him. 

Each  of  the  three  McBrides  had  a  different  opinion 
of  their  visitors.  The  head  of  the  family  was  rather 
contemptuous,  that  is,  as  contemptuous  as  a  man  of 
his  kind  could  be  of  a  solid  citizen  like  Raymond  Dunne. 
McBride  made  no  comment  to  the  rest  of  the  family, 
but  inwardly  he  felt  that  he  had  been  patronized,  and 
he  resented  it. 

Mrs.  McBride  was  delighted.  To  her  they  stood  for 
the  social  glory  in  which  her  daughter  was  to  shine. 
She  had  mistaken  what  was  simply  good  manners  on 
the  part  of  Mary  Dunne  for  actual  interest  in  them 
and  their  affairs.  Mary's  tact  had  confined  the  con- 
versation largely  to  matters  which  concerned  the 
McBrides.  She  had  talked  about  the  Second  Presby- 
terian Church  and  its  congregation  in  the  days  when 
she  was  a  member  of  it. 

Asenath  was  much  relieved  after  the  first  few  minutes 
of  the  visit.  She  found  that  she  need  not  stand  in  awe 
of  her  prospective  sister-in-law.  Mary  had  come  to 
her  at  once  when  she  had  come  into  the  room  and  had 
kissed  her  in  the  most  affectionate  manner.  She  had 
won  Asenath  completely  by  her  tactful  simplicity. 

After  they  had  gone,  and  Rawlings  and  Asenath 
were  alone,  he  asked  her: 

"How  did  you  like  Mary?" 

"I  think  she's  lovely." 


THE    CHOICE  149 

"I'm  glad  you  like  her.  I'm  sure  she  likes  you,  too. 
I  could  tell  from  the  way  she  acted  towards  you.  Is 
she  anything  like  what  you  expected?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  was  kind  of  scared.  I  thought  she'd 
be  kind  of — I  don't  know  just  what.  But — " 

"But  what?" 

"She's  just  sweet." 

It  had  been  arranged  that  Asenath  was  to  come  to 
Dunnes  for  dinner  on  the  following  Thursday.  Asenath 
looked  forward  to  the  occasion  with  the  keenest 
pleasure.  To  her  it  was  her  formal  entrance  into  the 
world  of  wealth  and  fashion.  Strange  to  say,  she  was 
not  at  all  impressed  by  what  almost  any  other  girl 
would  likely  have  considered  her  good  fortune.  This 
aspect  did  not  come  into  her  mental  vision.  She  was 
given  neither  to  introspection  nor  to  calculation.  It 
was  ever  so  much  easier  just  to  let  things  happen. 
If  she  had  had  any  philosophy,  she  might  have  justified 
her  course  on  the  basis  of  fatalism  or  perhaps  merely 
blind  chance.  But  she  had  no  philosophy. 

On  Tuesday  evening  on  her  return  home,  she  found 
a  fine  edition  of  Thackeray's  works  awaiting  her.  They 
were  beautiful  books  and  Asenath  was  delighted  to 
be  the  owner  of  so  distinguished  a  gift.  Rawlings  had 
enclosed  a  note  hi  which  he  recommended  that  she 
begin  by  reading  "Vanity  Fair."  So,  after  she  was 
dressed,  and  all  ready  for  the  expected  visitors,  she 
took  "Vanity  Fair"  from  the  set  and  began  to  read  it. 


150  THE    CHOICE 

She  was  much  surprised  to  find  it  completely  unin- 
teresting. She  had  expected,  from  Rawlings'  remarks 
of  the  previous  Saturday,  to  find  it  as  absorbing  as 
a  "movie."  She  was  mystified  at  first  by  the  allusions 
and  wondered  why  she  could  not  understand  them. 
The  book  was  certainly  written  in  English,  there  were 
comparatively  few  words  she  did  not  comprehend;  it 
told  about  school-girls  at  a  boarding  school,  that 
much  was  clear,  but  what  was  the  author  trying  to 
say?  She  could  not  determine,  but  she  read  on,  hoping 
that  it  would  become  clear  later  on.  Presently  she 
found  that  she  was  thinking  of  something  quite  removed 
from  the  matter  in  the  page  before  her,  although  she 
was  still  mechanically  reading  the  words.  So  she  began 
again  at  the  very  beginning  and  had  read  three  pages 
before  her  guests  arrived. 

During  the  evening,  after  the  Dunnes  had  gone,  she 
thanked  Rawlings  for  the  books.  He  asked  her  whether 
she  had  looked  into  them  and  she  answered  that  she 
had  just  glanced  at  the  first  few  pages  of  "Vanity  Fair." 

"Did  you  read  up  to  where  Becky  Sharp  threw  the 
dictionary  out  of  the  carriage  window?"  he  asked. 
This  was  one  of  the  few  incidents  of  the  book  which 
had  remained  in  his  memory. 

"No,"  said  Asenath,  "I  looked  at  only  two  or  three 
pages."  Throwing  the  dictionary  out  of  a  carriage 
window  was  something  she  could  understand.  That 
appealed  to  her  as  humorous  and  she  concluded  that 


THE    CHOICE  151 

she  would  enjoy  the  book  after  she  got  over  the  first 
few  pages. 

On  Thursday  evening,  Rawlings  called  for  her  at 
seven  o'clock,  this  time  in  Raymond  Dunne's  fine 
limousine.  As  Asenath  sank  into  the  luxurious  uphol- 
stery, she  was  conscious  of  the  contrast  between  this 
and  the  taxis  to  which  she  had  recently  become  accus- 
tomed. How  comfortable  it  was,  she  thought,  not  only 
to  be  whisked  from  place  to  place  without  the  necessity 
of  going  into  the  dirty  streets,  or  the  even  dirtier  trolley 
cars,  but  in  such  a  conveyance  as  this.  Asenath  felt  a 
great  sense  of  physical  well-being,  she  was  at  complete 
peace  with  herself  and  the  world  and  she  accepted  the 
pressure  of  Rawlings'  hand  on  hers  without  thought  of 
its  implication,  and  also  without  any  return  pressure. 

The  dinner  seemed  to  Asenath  quite  formal,  although 
it  differed  in  no  respect  from  the  ordinary  service  of  the 
Dunnes'  meals.  She  made  no  errors.  She  was  in  no  hurry, 
was  not  at  all  nervous  and  did  exactly  what  she  saw  her 
hostess  do.  She  even  drank  a  little  white  wine,  although 
she  found  it  disagreeable.  The  meal  was  a  simple  one 
with  regard  to  the  quantity  and  variety  of  the  food. 
Asenath  enjoyed  herself  thoroughly.  She  was  seated 
between  Rawlings  and  Dunne,  and  the  latter  kept 
up  a  running  fire  of  banter  which  was  quite  within  her 
understanding.  She  showed  her  appreciation  mostly 
in  smiles,  but  occasionally  she  laughed,  never  loudly, 
however. 


152  THE    CHOICE 

After  dinner,  Mary  took  Asenath  to  her  own  room. 
Asenath  was  immensely  impressed  by  the  quiet  elegance 
of  all  that  she  had  seen  in  the  Dunne  household,  but  the 
intimate  quality  of  charm  in  the  decoration  of  this  room 
appealed  to  her  with  particular  force.  To  live  in  such 
surroundings  was  worth  while.  She  wondered  if  such 
decoration  was  very  costly;  whether  it  would  be  within 
her  reach  when  she  was  married. 

Mary  motioned  to  a  comfortable  chair  in  which  Asen- 
ath seated  herself  and  observed  her  prospective  sister- 
in-law  go  to  a  drawer  in  her  dressing  table  and  take 
therefrom  a  little  package.  Mary  handed  the  package 
to  Asenath,  saying: 

''It's  only  a  little  thing  I  got  for  you  today." 

"For  me?  Oh!  Thank  you.  Shall  I  open  it  now?" 

"Of  course." 

It -proved  to  be  a  fine,  but  beautifully  simple  la  val- 
liere.  Asenath  was  delighted.  She  showed  her  pleasure 
so  plainly  that  comment  was  unnecessary. 

"Jt's  grand,"  she  said.  "  Gorgeous." 

"Put  it  on,"  Mary  directed,  and  Asenath,  getting  up 
from  her  chair,  went  over  to  the  mirror  and  placed  it  on 
her  neck.  She  looked  at  her  reflection  for  quite  a  long 
time,  Mary  watching  her  with  pleasure. 
'  "You're  so  good  to  me,"  said  Asenath  at  length. 

"It  adds  to  your  appearance,  doesn't  it?" 

"It's  lovely." 

"Come  over  here,  my  dear,  let's  get  acquainted. 


THE    CHOICE  153 

We're  going  to  see  a  great  deal  of  each  other  and  there's 
nothing  like  a  good  start." 

Asenath  sat  down  beside  her.  She  was  quite  at  a  loss 
for  the  proper  answer,  so  she  made  none.  Instead,  she 
took  Mary's  hand  and  fondled  it. 

"You're  very  happy,  aren't  you?"  asked  Mary. 

"Oh!  yes.  I'm  awfully  happy." 

"And  James  is  the  finest  man  in  the  whole  world, 
isn't  he?"  asked  Mary. 

This  was  something  that  had  not  occurred  to  Asen- 
ath. However,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  assent. 

"He's  just  wonderful,"  said  Asenath.  She  was  going 
to  say  something  about  his  generosity,  but  the  right 
words  wouldn't  come. 

"He's  a  very  fine  fellow,"  said  Mary.  "Even  though 
I'm  his  sister  and  supposed  to  be  prejudiced  in  his  favor, 
I  can  say  that  with  a  clear  conscience.  Still,  he's  like 
other  people,  he  has  his  ups  and  downs.  You  know  the 
sun  doesn't  shine  every  day.  And  marriage  isn't  alto- 
gether a  party.  Sometimes  it's  a  pretty  serious  business. 
I  suppose  you  realize  that." 

Asenath  did  not  know  what  to  say.  This  was  all  new 
to  her.  Her  only  conception  of  her  own  marriage  was 
with  regard  to  clothes,  a  pretty  house,  the  luxury  of 
servants,  amusement.  She  wished  with  all  her  soul  that 
she  could  say  something  in  answer  to  Mary,  but  it 
would  not  come.  So  Mary  went  on: 

"Then  there's  another  thing  to  consider — babies. 


154  THECHOICE 

They're  the  great  blessing,  but  they're  a  burden  as  well. 
And  the  woman's  part  is  the  serious  one.  It's  scarcely 
fair,  I  suppose,  to  talk  of  these  things  to  you  yet,  but 
I  want  both  of  you  to  be  happy,  very  happy,  and  your 
best  chance  is  to  know  a  little  of  what's  before  you. 
Don't  you  think  so?" 

"Yes,"  said  Asenath.  But  she  said  it  with  her  lips  only 
and  Mary  saw  that  the  real  meaning  had  not  reached 
her.  She  continued : 

"I'm  glad  you  agree  with  me,  because  I  know.  I've 
been  'through  the  mill,'  as  they  say.  You've  got  to  love 
a  man  much  better  than  you  love  yourself  if  you  want 
to  get  anything  out  of  marriage.  You've  got  to  be  able 
to  get  a  good  deal  of  your  joy  out  of  sacrifice.  You  think 
James  is  'wonderful,'  you  say.  That's  now,  when  he's  in 
a  sort  of  craze  concerning  you;  when  you  seem  almost 
holy  to  him.  Do  you  think,  when  you've  lived  together 
for  a  few  years,  and  the  novelty's  worn  off,  that  you'll 
think  he's  wonderful  when  he  flies  in  a  temper  just 
because  the  coffee's  cold?  It's  got  to  be  a  pretty  thor- 
oughgoing love  that  will  pull  you  through,  and  you 
want  to  be  sure  that  he's  the  man  you  must  have  to 
make  you  happy,  no  matter  what  comes." 

She  paused  and  looked  at  Asenath  intently  awaiting 
some  answer.  But  there  was  nothing  in  Asenath 's  mind 
to  fit  the  occasion.  She  could  not  speak,  the  words  would 
not  come.  She  still  had  Mary's  hand  in  her  own.  Sud- 
denly she  put  it  to  her  mouth  and  kissed  it. 


THE    CHOICE  155 

"Why  do  you  do  that?"  asked  Mary. 

"Oh!  I  just  love  you,"  answered  Asenath,  "you're  so 
good  to  me  and  I'm  so  awful  dumb  that  I  just  have  to 
sit  here  and  listen  to  you  talk  so  lovely  to  me  and  I  can't 
say  one  word." 

Asenath  was  on  the  verge  of  tears.  Mary  saw  it  and, 
with  keen  intuition,  recognized  exactly  the  sort  of 
person  with  whom  she  was  dealing.  Asenath's  helpless- 
ness appealed  to  her  as  nothing  else  could. 

"Don't  say  that,  my  dear.  You  must  remember  that 
you're  a  very  young  girl,  and  it's  not  expected  that  you 
have  thought  about  all  these  things.  I  was  wrong  to 
talk  about  them  to  you.  At  any  rate,  we  all  have  to 
learn  from  our  own  experience.  Warnings  aren't  worth 
much.  Now  let's  talk  about  other  things." 

Mary's  tone  was  kindness  itself,  and  it,  rather  than 
her  words,  comforted  Asenath  completely.  Her  face 
regained  its  customary  composure.  She  now  felt  entirely 
at  ease  with  Mary;  she  had  the  sense  of  being  with  a 
staunch  friend,  one  upon  whom  she  might  always  count 
with  confidence. 

"What'll  we  talk  about?"  she  asked  brightly. 

"Tell  me  where  you  got  that  pretty  dress." 

Asenath  was  altogether  at  home  on  this  topic,  and 
became  almost  voluble.  When  she  left  Dunnes'  with 
Rawlings,  she  was  happy  in  the  belief  that  she  had  a 
good  friend  in  Mary. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WHEN  Rawlings  returned  after  escorting  Asen- 
ath  to  her  home,  he  was  surprised  to  find  his 
sister  up  and  evidently  awaiting  him.  She 
greeted  him  affectionately. 

"Do  you  want  to  go  to  bed  immediately?"  she  queried. 

"Why  do  you  ask?"  he  returned. 

"If  you  don't  mind,"  she  answered,  "I'd  like  to  have 
a  little  talk  with  you."  There  was  no  mistaking  her 
manner.  It  was  clearly  reassuring.  Had  it  been  other- 
wise, he  would  undoubtedly  have  found  some  excuse 
to  evade  what  would  have  been  a  somewhat  disagreeable 
discussion.  He  had  just  left  Asenath  and  was  still 
under  the  spell  of  her  charm.  He  sat  down. 

"I'm  not  sleepy,"  he  said,  "go  on." 

"James,"  she  began,  "I  got  to  know  Asenath  very 
well  this  evening,  and  I'm  perfectly  sure  that  you  have 
chosen  well.  I  believe  she  will  make  you  a  good  wife. 
After  all,  that's  the  important  thing,  isn't  it?" 

Somehow  or  other,  Rawlings  could  not  have  told  why, 
he  found  her  words  unsatisfying.  Of  course,  nothing 
but  assent  was  possible. 

"Don't  think,"  she  went  on,  "that  I  believe  she's 
perfect,  or  that  your  life  together  will  be  one  continuous 
dream  of  happiness.  She's  very  beautiful,  she  reminds 
me  of  someone,  I  can't  think  who  it  may  be;  she's 

156 


THE    CHOICE  157 

modest,  her  manner  is  quiet  and  dignified,  and  if,  as 
is  probable,  she  has  never  had  any  experience  of  the 
niceties  of  life,  at  least  she  doesn't  give  herself  away. 
She  seems  to  have  good  taste,  just  naturally.  Did  you 
notice  her  behavior  at  the  table  this  evening?  Why, 
you'd  think  she  was  used  to  dining  out  every  evening." 

Rawlings  was  vaguely  dissatisfied.  He  enjoyed  Mary's 
praise  of  Asenath,  but  he  feared  her  analysis.  He  did 
not  want  to  hear  of  any  imperfections.  He  knew  that 
they  must  be  present,  but  he  felt  that  he  could  not 
discuss  them.  To  admit  them  would  hurt  his  pride, 
he  would  feel  it  as  a  reflection  on  his  judgment,  his  own 
worth.  He  did  not  recognize  it,  but  this  was  the  fact. 

"She  shows  her  good  taste  in  her  dress,"  continued 
Mary.  "Do  you  know  that  ail  of  her  clothes  are  made 
at  home  by  her  mother  and  herself?  She  gets  the  ideas 
from  the  fashion  papers,  but  it's  wonderful  how  sure 
her  taste  is.  It's  just  natural." 

"She  certainly  dresses  well,"  said  Rawlings.  "She 
always  looks  fine,  never  overdressed." 

"Yes,  I  can  imagine  that  she  looks  just  as  well  in 
the  clothes  she  wears  at  her  work." 

"I've  never  seen  her  then,  but  she  always  looks 
just  as  well  as  she  did  this  evening." 

"For  so  young  a  girl,  it's  rather  remarkable.  She's 
not  quite  nineteen,  and  it  isn't  fair  to  expect  too  much 
of  her.  She's  had  no  social  or  educational  advantages 
whatever.  I  don't  know  what  her  friends  are  like." 


158  THE    CHOICE 

"They're  not  much.  You  know  the  kind." 

"Of  course  I  do.  And  her  parents  are — well,  the  less 
said  the  better." 

"I  know  what  they  are,  too.  And  after  we're  married, 
I  don't  propose  to  see  any  more  of  them  than  I  can 
help." 

"I  don't  blame  you.  But,  after  all,  that's  a  minor 
matter.  What  I  want  to  talk  about  is  Asenath  herself. 
James,  I  want  you  to  understand  what  I'm  going  to 
say  in  the  spirit  in  which  I  say  it,  that  is,  in  the  spirit 
of  the  utmost  kindness.  Asenath  is  a  beautiful  girl, 
she's  good,  she  has  fine  taste  and  everything  like  that, 
but  she's  not  a  bit  clever.  I  don't  mean  the  cheap 
smartness  which  passes  with  most  people  as  cleverness. 
I  mean —  Oh!  it's  awfully  hard  to  say  just  what  I 
mean,  but  I  suppose  that  I  can  put  it  that  her  under- 
standing is  limited  to  rather  simple  ideas." 

Rawlings  made  a  gesture  of  protest. 

"Wait,  James,"  she  went  on.  "I  know  it's  not  fair 
to  judge  on  such  short  acquaintance,  but  I'm  convinced 
that  my  judgment — I  guess  it  isn't  really  judgment, 
but  intuition.  Well,  my  intuition,  then,  tells  me  this. 
But  I'm  almost  persuaded  that  this  is  an  advantage 
rather  than  the  opposite.  She's  very  young,  you  hava 
the  opportunity  to  make  almost  anything  of  her 
within  her  ability.  One  thing  is  sure,  if  you  follow  the 
right  course,  you'll  be  very  happy.  But  don't  crowd 
her,  study  Jjer  and  study  yourself.  You  have  every 


THE    CHOICE  159 

incentive,  you  love  her  and  you  can  make  her  love  you 
with  complete  devotion." 

"She  loves  me  now,"  said  Rawlings.  What  his  sister 
had  said  to  him  concerning  Asenath  had  completely 
upset  him.  As  she  spoke,  he  felt  the  elemental  truth  of 
her  words,  but  he  would  not  admit  it.  He  was  ill  at 
ease,  discontented  with  the  whole  affair. 

"In  a  way,  yes,"  said  Mary.  "But  she  might  very 
well  not  understand  what  love  means.  Just  think  what 
you  represent  in  the  way  of  social  possibility  to  a  girl 
in  her  circumstances.  Don't  you  see  that  it  is  quite 
probable  that  your  attentions  have  flattered  her  to 
the  point  where  she  mistakes  her  admiration  for  you 
and  her  gratitude  for  love?  I  don't  doubt  that  she  will 
love  you,  and  devotedly  too,  when  she  has  gone  a  little 
further,  but  now  I'm  not  at  all  sure." 

"I'm  sure,"  answered  Rawlings,  stoutly,  "and  I 
don't  think  you're  right  when  you  say  she's  stupid. 
She's  young  and  she's  inexperienced,  that's  all.  And 
besides,  she  feels  strange  with  you.  When  we're  alone 
together  she  talks — why,  you  ought  to  hear  her  ideas." 

Rawlings  got  no  further.  He  was  almost  angry  and 
feared  that  he  might  become  thoroughly  so  were  the 
discussion  protracted. 

"All  right,"  said  Mary,  "I  hope  I'm  wrong  in  every- 
thing that  makes  her  less  than  you  want  her  to  be.  But 
don't  be  annoyed  with  me.  I'm  so  much  interested  that  I 
want  to  help  you  all  I  can.  You  know  that,  don't  you?" 


160  THE    CHOICE 

"Certainly,"  he  answered.  "And  thank  you  very 
much  for  your  gift  to  Asenath.  She  was  perfectly 
delighted  with  it.  You'd  be  all  puffed  up  if  I  told  you 
all  she  said  about  you.  Good  night." 

He  kissed  her  and  went  off  to  bed,  but,  once  there, 
he  wooed  sleep  in  vain. 

As  he  tossed  on  his  bed  until  almost  dawn,  he  con- 
sidered and  reconsidered  his  position,  and  then  con- 
sidered it  again.  He  alternated  between  his  desire  for 
Asenath,  which  controlled  him  whenever,  for  a  moment, 
he  thought  of  her,  and  his  wish  to  be  out  of  the  whole 
affair.  For  it  had  come  to  that.  He  was  afraid.  His 
sister's  well  meant  words  had  had  an  effect  exactly 
opposed  to  her  intention.  He  could  not  specify  just 
what  he  feared,  he  knew  only  that  he  was  unhappy; 
that  his  position  as  Asenath's  fiance  made  him  feel 
apologetic.  He  could  answer  every  objection  to  the 
match  that  had  been  offered  or  that  had  occurred  to 
him,  and  could  answer  it  satisfactorily,  but  still  the 
feeling  of  the  necessity  for  explanation,  for  outward 
justification,  was  upon  him. 

All  objections  or  criticisms  but  one  could  be  disposed 
of.  And  that  was  Mary's  opinion  that  Asenath  was  not 
clever.  He  told  himself  that  she  might  not  be  vivacious 
or  voluble,  but  he  refused  to  admit  that  her  quiet 
demeanor  was  any  evidence  of  a  lack  of  intellectual 
quality.  She  was  untrained,  uneducated,  if  the  word 
was  necessary,  but  that  was  all. 


THE    CHOICE  161 

How  beautiful  she  was!  What  wonderful  charm  in 
her  expressive  smile!  What  grace  in  her  least  movement! 
He  conjured  her  before  him  as  he  lay  with  closed  eyes, 
and  again  he  was  rapturously  in  love  with  her, 
oblivious  to  every  feeling  but  the  desire  for  possession 
of  her. 

And  from  this  ecstacy  he  would  sink  into  despair. 
He  wanted  to  be  out  of  it;  he  wanted  to  be  free.  He 
would  go  to  her  and  tell  her  it  was  a  mistake;  that  she 
was  too  young  to  be  bound  to  him;  that  he  was  taking 
an  unfair  advantage  of  her;  that —  His  mind  refused 
to  work.  He  gave  it  up  and  yielded  himself  to  sheer 
misery. 

While  he  tossed  and  worried,  Asenath  was  enjoying 
the  sleep  of  the  just.  She  found  her  mother  waiting  for 
her  when  Rawlings  had  gone,  curious  to  learn  of  the 
evening's  happenings.  Asenath  was  in  a  most  com- 
municative mood.  She  was  not  only  willing,  but  anxious, 
to  talk  about  her  experience. 

Mrs.  McBride's  interest  was  mainly  in  the  material 
aspect  of  the  affair.  She  wanted  to  know  what  food  she 
had  been  offered,  what  kind  of  a  house  the  Dunnes  had, 
about  their  servants  and  so  on.  Asenath  satisfied  her 
curiosity  as  well  as  she  could  in  regard  to  these  points 
and  then,  when  the  limits  of  Mrs.  McBride's  imagina- 
tion were  reached,  began  to  talk  about  Mary  Dunne. 

"Mamma,  I  think  Mary's  the  most  wonderful,  the 
sweetest,  the  best —  Oh!  she's  just  grand.  After 


162  THE    CHOICE 

supper,  I  mean  dinner,  she  asked  me  to  come  up  into 
her  room.  I  told  you  how  sweet  it  was.  Did  I  tell  you 
about  her  little  bag  of  powder  puffs?  She  don't  use  'em 
herself.  They're  just  for  her  visitors,  and  when  they've 
been  used  once,  why,  she  throws  'em  away.  What  do 
you  think  of  that?  Well,  we  went  into  her  room  and  she 
talked  lovely  to  me.  I  liked  her  the  first  minute  when 
she  was  here  on  Tuesday,  but  up  there,  in  her  room,  I 
was  just  crazy  about  her.  She  told  me  such  sensible 
things,  I  couldn't  tell  you  all  she  said,  and  Oh!  she 
thinks  you  sew  just  grand.  I  told  her  how  you  make  all 
my  dresses.  She  thinks  this  one's  lovely.  Oh,  I  wish  I 
was  like  her.  She  is  good  and  kind  and  smart.  I've  never 
met  anybody  like  her.  It's  no  wonder  Jim's  crazy  about 
her.  He's  so  glad  I  like  her,  he  was  awful  anxious  for  us 
to  be  good  friends.  And  we  are." 

This  induced  a  new  line  of  questioning  on  the  part 
of  Mrs.  McBride,  which  Asenath  answered  as  well  as 
she  could,  although  not  always  to  the  complete  satisfac- 
tion of  her  parent,  whose  curiosity  was  well  nigh 
insatiable.  While  they  were  still  talking,  they  heard  the 
clock  strike  one.  Then  they  both  went  to  bed,  each 
happy  in  her  own  way. 


CHAPTER  XX 

EVERY  day,  during  her  lunch  hour,  Asenath,  fol- 
lowing Rawlings'  instructions,  called  him  on  the 
telephone.  There  was  no  special  purpose  in  this 
further  than  the  procuring  of  an  additional  contact.  In 
these  brief  talks,  neither  of  them  had  anything  to  com- 
municate that  was  of  any  consequence  whatever.  Asen- 
ath enjoyed  it,  it  gave  her  something  to  do  which  rather 
heightened  the  sense  of  her  own  importance,  and,  in 
addition,  she  liked  to  talk  to  him  about  the  very  few 
things  that  came  in  her  mind  about  which  she  was  able 
to  talk.  But,  if  he  had  told  her  that,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  these  noonday  talks  were  to  be  discontinued,  it 
would  have  made  very  little,  if  any,  difference  to  her. 

Quite  different  was  his  feeling  with  regard  to  them. 
After  the  second  day,  he  was  thoroughly  self-conscious 
when  the  telephone  operator  called  him.  He  fancied  that 
she  did  it  with  a  mock-accusing  air  and  he  was  thoroughly 
uncomfortable.  But  he  looked  forward  to  these  daily 
talks  as  a  relief  to  his  intense  desire  to  see  Asenath. 

On  the  morning  following  her  visit  to  the  Dunnes, 
Asenath  was  told  by  Rawlings,  during  their  chat  over 
the  telephone,  that  he  would  not  be  able  to  come  to  see 
her  in  the  evening  because  of  an  unusual  press  of  work  in 
the  office,  which  would  hold  him  until  quite  a  late  hour. 
This  was  partly  true,  but  the  principal  reason  for  his 

163 


164  THE    CHOICE 

action  was  that  he  was  still  under  the  influence  of  his 
unrest  of  the  night  before.  He  was  at  the  point  where  he 
was  actually  considering  how  he  might  break  his  engage- 
ment. This  idea  was  intermittent  only,  for,  most  of  the 
time,  he  was  controlled  by  his  desire  for  her.  Vaguely, 
he  recognized  that,  in  her  presence,  it  would  be  impossi- 
ble for  him  to  consider  the  matter  coolly,  and  he  felt 
that  he  must  settle  it  promptly  and  once  for  all. 

Asenath  was  quite  satisfied  with  Rawlings'  announce- 
ment. She  would  have  been  glad  to  see  him,  but,  since 
she  had  no  doubt  whatever  of  his  complete  devotion  to 
her,  she  was  entirely  content  to  spend  an  evening  with- 
out him.  To  be  more  strictly  accurate,  she  was  even 
somewhat  pleased  at  the  prospect. 

When  she  returned  to  Susan,  with  whom,  as  usual,  she 
was  lunching,  she  remarked : 

"Jim  ain't  coming  tonight.  He's  got  to  work  at  the 
office.'1 

"That's  too  bad,"  answered  Susan.  "What  are  you 
going  to  do?" 

"Oh!  I  guess  I'll  read  a  little,  and  maybe  I'll  sew." 

"I'm  going  over  to  May  Wilson's  house  tonight  after 
supper.  How'd  you  like  us  to  run  over  to  your  house?" 

"That'd  be  fine." 

Asenath,  after  her  supper,  took  out  "Vanity  Fair" 
and  made  another  attempt  at  it.  She  determined  that 
she  would  read  up  to  the  dictionary  episode  and,  by 
dint  of  much  perserverance,  finally  achieved  the  first 


THE    CHOICE  165 

chapter.  But  she  did  not  enjoy  any  aspect  of  the  under- 
taking except  her  satisfaction  in  the  accomplishment  of 
a  difficult  task.  She  had  understood  very  little  of  the 
text,  for  she  was  utterly  without  any  standards  which 
would  have  enabled  her  to  appreciate  the  quality  of  the 
satire. 

She  laid  the  book  away  and  completely  dismissed  it 
from  her  thoughts.  She  began  her  sewing  and  was  busily 
engaged  at  it  when  a  ring  at  the  doorbell  announced 
the  arrival  of  Susan  and  May.  This  was  shortly  before 
eight  o'clock. 

At  about  eight-thirty  there  was  another  ring  at  the 
doorbell,  which  interrupted  their  talk  about  the  Dunnes. 
Both  Susan  and  May  were  extremely  curious  and  had 
plied  Asenath  with  an  interminable  series  of  questions, 
which  she  had  answered  with  great  pleasure  and  not  a 
little  pride.  The  ring  of  the  bell,  however,  cut  this  short. 
Asenath  went  to  the  door  and  was  much  surprised  and, 
to  tell  the  truth,  not  altogether  pleased,  to  see  Rawlings. 
This  was  but  momentary,  however,  for  she  quickly 
felt  some  gratification  in  the  idea  of  having  her  fiance"s 
inability  to  remain  away  from  her  actually  demon- 
strated to  her  friends. 

Rawlings  had  been  unable  to  concentrate  on  his  work, 
and,  after  struggling  with  it  for  two  hours,  had  recog- 
nized the  futility  of  hoping  to  accomplish  anything  in 
his  present  mental  condition.  He  closed  his  desk  shortly 
after  seven  o'clock  and  went  to  a  restaurant  for  dinner. 


166  THE    CHOICE 

But  he  had  no  appetite  and  left  most  of  the  food  untasted. 
Then  he  walked  the  streets,  turning  over  and  over  in 
his  mind  the  one  subject  which  obsessed  him. 

Suddenly  he  was  aware  that  he  was  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  McBrides'  house,  and,  dimly  recognizing  in  the 
unconscious  direction  of  his  steps  the  presence  of  some 
outward  guidance  in  the  determination  of  his  problem, 
he  made  up  his  mind  that  he  must  free  himself  at  once. 
While  still  under  the  influence  of  this  resolution,  he 
hastened  his  stride,  and,  a  few  minutes  later,  rang 
McBrides'  doorbell.  He  had  not  been  able  to  decide  just 
what  he  would  say,  but  he  was  determined  that,  in  some 
way  or  other,  he  would  make  it  plain  to  Asenath  that 
their  engagement  had  been  a  mistake.  He  had  no  doubt 
that  she  would  release  him.  But  even  in  the  brief  interval 
between  ringing  the  bell  and  the  opening  of  the  door,  he 
was  again  thrown  into  uncertainty  by  the  thought  of 
the  meanness  of  his  contemplated  action  and  what  would 
be  thought  of  it  by  others.  Of  its  effect  on  Asenath  her- 
self he  thought  but  little. 

Asenath's  first  surprise  over,  she  greeted  him  in  her 
customary  manner.  She  held  up  her  face  to  him  to  kiss. 
He  did  so,  and  with  the  contact  of  her  lips  he  knew  only 
that  he  wanted  her;  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  him 
to  carry  out  his  purpose.  He  felt  that  he  must  explain 
his  unexpected  coming. 

"I  got  through  sooner  than  I  expected  and  thought 
I'd  take  a  chance  of  your  being  up,"  he  said. 


THE    CHOICE  167 

"That  was  a  cinch,"  she  answered.  "  I  never  go  to  bed 
until  ten,  anyway.  Come  in.  Susan  and  May  are  here." 

This  was  a  decidedly  unpleasant  announcement  to 
Rawlings.  He  did  not  want  to  see  them  and  he  resented 
Asenath's  association  with  them.  He  felt  it  to  be  a 
reflection  on  him. 

"Oh!  are  they?"  he  said  hastily.  "Well,  then,  I  won't 
stop." 

"Jim,  you  don't  mean  it?"  she  answered.  "What 
would  they  think  of  such  a  thing?" 

"You  don't  need  to  tell  them  I  was  here,  do  you?" 

"Jim,  please  come  in.  They  won't  stay  long,"  she 
pleaded. 

"All  right,  then,"  he  said,  grudgingly,  "but  I  don't 
like  them  and  I  don't  want  to  see  them.  I  can't  imagine 
what  you  see  in  them,  either." 

"Oh!  Jim!"  was  all  that  Asenath  could  say. 

He  closed  the  door  behind  him,  which  she  understood 
as  a  final  agreement  to  come  in.  She  led  the  way  to  the 
dining  room,  where  the  girls  were.  Rawlings  greeted 
them  with  frozen  politeness.  He  showed  his  dissatisfac- 
tion so  plainly  that  Asenath  perceived  it  and  became 
rather  angry.  May  and  Susan  felt  it  instantly  and  deter- 
mined to  leave  as  soon  as  their  standard  of  politeness 
would  permit.  This  meant  that  a  little  conversation  was 
absolutely  necessary.  It  was  of  the  most  perfunctory 
nature,  however,  and,  in  not  over  five  minutes,  the  girls 
had  gone. 


168  THE    CHOICE 

When  Asenath  returned  to  Rawlings  after  seeing  her 
friends  to  the  door,  he  was  made  aware  of  something 
new  in  her,  something  he  had  not  yet  experienced.  He 
was  thoroughly  angry  himself.  He  had  made  up  his 
mind  that  if  the  engagement  was  to  go  on,  Asenath  must 
promise  to  give  up  her  association  with  these  girls.  He 
was  troubled  by  the  alteration  in  her  manner,  he  could 
not  explain  it,  and  this  but  added  to  his  resentment. 

"What  on  earth  do  you  see  in  those  girls?"  he  asked. 

Asenath  was  silent;  she  looked  at  him  with  an  injured 
air. 

"Why  don't  you  answer  me?"  he  asked,  growing 
angrier  constantly. 

But  Asenath  still  held  her  tongue.  She  looked  at  him 
in  mute  protest. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  you,"  he  went  on,  after 
a  pause; "  I  rush  away  from  my  work  just  for  the  pleasure 
of  being  with  you  for  a  little  while,  and  when  I  ask  you 
a  civil  question  you  won't  answer."  His  words  came 
without  thought.  He  scarcely  recognized  their  utter 
mendacity. 

Still  she  was  silent,  and,  in  his  desire  to  make  her  talk, 
to  compel  some  admission  of  the  correctness  of  his  atti- 
tude, he  went  on,  no  longer  remembering  the  purpose 
of  his  coming  in  his  desire  to  master  her. 

"  I  can't  understand  you.  You  tell  me  you  love  me, 
you  say  I  am  generous  with  you,  you  let  me  believe  that 
your  only  desire  is  to  please  me,  and  yet,  when  I  take 


THECHOICE  169 

exception  to  your  associating  with  a  couple  of  ordinary 
girls,  girls  that  you  positively  couldn't  associate  with 
as  my  wife,  you  sit  there  and  mope  and  haven't  even 
the  politeness  to  answer  a  civil  question.  I  guess  I  had 
better  go,  and  let  you  have  the  company  of  your 
friends."  The  intonation  of  this  last  word  carried  all  of 
the  contempt  imaginable. 

But  Asenath  was  still  silent.  She  stared  before  her  hi 
vacancy.  She  was  thoroughly  angry.  It  would  have  been 
a  great  relief  to  her  to  say  something  that  would  hurt 
him,  that  would  make  him  feel  the  sense  of  injury  which 
she  felt,  but  nothing  would  come  to  her  lips. 

He  waited  a  moment  and  then  got  up  from  his  chair 
and  made  a  few  steps  towards  the  door.  She  did  not 
move  but  continued  to  stare  into  vacancy.  He  turned  to 
look  at  her,  and  the  piteous  expression  on  her  face  over- 
came him.  With  a  sudden  rush,  he  realized  that  he  must 
have  her,  he  could  not  break  with  her,  that  if  he  left 
her  now,  he  would  be  condemned  to  endless  misery. 

"Asenath,"  he  said,  "won't  you  talk  to  me?"  She 
looked  up  at  him,  he  saw  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  this  was 
the  final  touch.  He  came  over  to  her  and  took  her  hand, 
which  she  yielded  to  him  passively.  But  she  said  nothing. 

"Asenath,"  he  said  again,  "won't  you  please  talk  to 
me?" 

"Oh!  Why  are  you  so  mean  to  me?"  she  said.  And 
now  the  tears  flowed  freely,  and  she  gave  herself  up  to 
his  embrace,  sobbing  like  the  child  she  was. 


170  THE    CHOICE 

Presently,  she  was  calmer,  and  they  talked  the  matter 
out  freely.  He  accused  himself  of  brutality,  of  unworthi- 
ness,  of  everything  which  he  could  think  of  in  the  rapture 
of  his  new  possession  of  her.  When  he  left,  two  hours 
later,  he  was  again  in  the  clouds.  He  loved  her  and 
nothing  must  ever  come  between  them  again. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ON  the  following  Monday  morning,  as  Asenath 
was  approaching  the  door  of  the  building  which 
contained  both  the  exchange  in  which  she  was 
employed  and  the  main  office  of  the  Telephone  Com- 
pany, she  saw  a  familiar  figure  coming  towards  her. 
Instantly  she  recognized  Lamed. 

For  a  moment  she  hoped  he  would  pass  without 
seeing  her,  but  for  a  moment  only.  She  would  have 
been  utterly  unable  to  give  any  reason  for  the  thrill 
of  happiness  which  she  experienced  at  the  sight  of  him, 
but  she  felt  it  in  its  full  intensity. 

He  saw  her  almost  immediately  and  his  smile  of 
recognition  added  much  to  her  pleasure.  They  came 
together  at  the  door.  She  spoke  first. 

"Good  morning,"  he  answered,  hesitated  for  a 
moment,  and  then  said,  "Madame  or,  perhaps  I  had 
better  say  Mademoiselle,  Vigee." 

"Why  don't  you  say  all  of  it?"  she  asked. 

"Well,  you  see,  Le  Brun  was  not  her  maiden  name, 
and  it  wouldn't  do  to  call  you  Madame." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  Madame  is  the  same  as  Mrs.  It's  used  only 
for  married  women,  and  you're  not  married  yet,  I 
presume."  This  with  a  mischievous  smile. 

This  brought  Asenath  to  a  sudden  recollection  of 

171 


172  THE    CHOICE 

her  engagement  to  Rawlings,  which  she  had  momen- 
tarily forgotten  in  her  pleasure  at  meeting  Lamed. 

"Not  yet,"  she  answered  gravely,  "but  pretty  soon." 

"Really?"  he  asked  with  surprise.  He  was  rather 
struck  by  the  fact  that  he  was  distinctly  chagrined  at 
the  news. 

"Yes,  I'm  engaged  to  a  man  you  used  to  know." 

"Who  is  the  lucky  fellow?" 

"James  Rawlings." 

"Rawlings,  Rawlings.  Oh,  yes.  I  remember  him. 
It's  been  years  since  I've  seen  him.  Well,  I  wish  you 
joy." 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  said  Asenath.  She  was  sur- 
prised to  find  that  she  was  rather  sorry  that  she  was 
engaged.  She  did  not  try  to  find  any  reason  for  it,  she 
merely  felt  it  rather  vaguely. 

Lamed  was  about  to  allow  her  to  pass  him,  when 
she  said: 

"Oh!  Mr.  Larned,  I  guess  you  think  I'm  terrible,  and 
that  I've  got  no  manners  at  all  because  I  never  thanked 
you  for  that  sweet  picture  you  sent  me.  I  tried  to  write 
you  a  letter.  I  began  one,  but  it  just  wouldn't  come  out 
right,  and  then  it  got  to  be  too  late.  I  love  the  picture, 
it's  in  my  room.  I  look  at  it  every  day." 

"Oh!  That's  all  right.  Miss—  Do  you  know  I've 
actually  forgotten  your  name?' 

"McBride,  Asenath  McBride." 

"To  be  sure,  Miss  McBride.  And  to  forget  a  name 


THE    CHOICE  173 

like  Asenath.  Say,  Rawlings'  name  ought  to  be  Joseph 
instead  of  James,  ought'nt  it?" 

"Yes,"  said  Asenath,  laughing.  Oh!  This  man  was 
delightful.  He  had  fun  in  him.  She  remembered  her 
pleasure  in  the  talk  they  had  had  by  the  brook. 

"Well,  I  must  be  on  my  way,"  he  said.  "You  know 
a  workingman  has  to  keep  good  hours." 

"A  workingman!"  said  Asenath.  "I  thought  you  were 
a  school  teacher." 

"That's  past  history.  I  haven't  taught  school  since — 
since  last  Friday.  I'm  in  business  now.  I'm  working 
for  the  Telephone  Company,  Engineering  Department. 
This  is  my  shop  right  here,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the 
building  in  front  of  which  they  stood. 

"It's  mine,  too,"  said  Asenath. 

"That's  so.  You  told  me  you  were  a  'hello  girl'." 

"No,  I  didn't.  We  don't  say  'hello'  nowadays." 

"That's  right.  Well,  I'm  glad  we'll  be  able  to  see  each 
other  occasionally.  Tell  Rawlings  that  I  congratulate 
him." 

They  entered  the  building  together.  Asenath  left 
him  at  the  fifth  floor.  Mixed  with  her  great  pleasure 
in  their  talk  there  was  still  a  vague  feeling  of  dissatisfac- 
tion. However,  this  did  not  last  long  and  soon  she  gave 
herself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  remembering  every 
detail  of  his  sprightly  talk.  Surely  she  had  never  met 
anyone  so  interesting;  no  one  to  whom  she  talked  so 
freely.  It  seemed  as  though  he  inspired  her,  she  never 


174  THE    CHOICE 

felt  mute  or  incapable  in  his  presence.  Rawlings  was  a 
fine  fellow  and  she  had  no  doubt  that  she  loved  him, 
but  yet,  with  him,  at  times,  she  simply  couldn't  say 
the  things  she  felt.  She  wondered  why  it  was. 

At  noon,  she  told  Susan  all  about  her  interview  with 
Lamed.  But  Susan  was  not  much  interested.  She  had 
another  matter  which  claimed  her  attention.  At  the 
first  chance,  she  asked: 

"Say,  Queenie,  what  was  the  matter  with  your  man 
on  Friday  evening?  I've  been  wanting  to  ask  you  ever 
since,  but  I  haven't  had  the  chance."  This  was  quite 
true,  for  Rawlings  had  met  Asenath  as  she  left  the  ex- 
change on  Saturday  at  noon  and  had  practically  monop- 
olized her  for  the  rest  of  that  day  and  also  all  of  Sunday. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Asenath. 

"He  was  awful  grumpy.  He  acted  as  though  May 
and  I  were  dirt.  My,  but  maybe  he  can't  hand  out  the 
icy  mitt." 

Asenath  was  troubled.  She  felt  that  she  really  could 
not  tell  Susan  the  truth,  and  invention  was  beyond 
her  powers. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said. 

"Didn't  he  apologize,  or  explain  or  nothing?"  asked 
Susan. 

"He  was  grouchy,"  admitted  Asenath  after  a  short 
pause.  "Did  May  notice  anything?" 

"Did  she?  She  was  furious.  She  said  she  won't  ever 
come  to  your  house  again." 


THE    CHOICE  175 

Asenath  did  not  know  what  to  say  to  this,  so  she 
wisely  kept  silent.  Presently  she  said: 

"Sue,  you're  not  mad  at  me,  are  you?" 

Susan  was  convinced  that  Asenath  knew  more  than 
she  would  tell.  But  she  had  had  considerable  experience 
and  not  much  success  in  making  her  talk  against  her 
will  and,  for  that  reason,  she  decided  not  to  press  the 
question  just  now. 

"I'm  not  mad  at  you,"  she  said.  "It  wasn't  your 
fault.  Only,  if  Mr.  Rawlings  don't  want  to  see  me,  I 
guess  I  can  keep  out  of  his  way.  That's  all." 

And  thus  the  matter  dropped. 

Since  the  preceding  Friday,  Rawlings  had  given 
himself  up  to  complete  happiness  in  his  engagement  to 
Asenath.  It  is  true,  of  course,  that  he  had  spent  nearly 
the  whole  of  his  time  with  her  since  their  little  mis- 
understanding and  the  subsequent  reconciliation,  and, 
when  he  was  with  her,  he  was  never  in  any  doubt.  Her 
charm  was  all-potent. 

He  came  to  see  her  Monday  evening  and  they  went 
out  for  a  walk.  Without  having  any  special  objective  they 
presently  found  themselves  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Dunnes'  house.  When  they  remarked  this,  Rawlings  asked : 

"Would  you  like  to  drop  in  for  a  moment  to  see 
Mary?  I  don't  imagine  she's  out,  although  I  know  that 
Raymond  is." 

"I'd  love  to,"  answered  Asenath,  "only  I  ain't 
dressed  for  a  visit." 


176  THE    CHOICE 

"You  look  all  right  to  me,"  said  Rawlings,  "and, 
besides,  she's  your  sister  now,  so  I  don't  suppose  you 
need  stand  on  any  ceremony." 

They  found  Mary  at  home.  She  was  very  glad  to  see 
Asenath.  She  found  her  looking  quite  as  well  in  her 
simple,  homemade  coat  and  skirt  as  in  the  more  elab- 
orate dress  which  she  had  worn  when  she  had  dined 
there. 

They  were  talking  of  indifferent  matters  when  a 
telegram  was  handed  in.  It  was  for  Rawlings.  He  opened 
and  read  it,  and  made  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

"What  do  you  think?"  he  cried.  "Uncle  George  is 
dead." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Mary. 

He  handed  her  the  telegram. 

It  read:  "George  Rawlings  died  suddenly  today  of 
heart  failure.  Funeral  Thursday."  It  was  dated  San 
Francisco. 

"Isn't  it  awful,"  said  Mary.  "Just  think,  he  was 
only  a  little  over  fifty-five.  He's  never  had  a  day  of 
illness,  as  far  as  I  know.  I  thought  he'd  live  for  many 
years." 

"Had  he  any  family?"  asked  Asenath.  She  wanted 
to  be  sympathetic,  but  scarcely  knew  how.  She  felt  so 
utterly  out  of  all  of  this. 

"He  never  married,"  answered  Mary. 

Through  Rawlings'  head  but  one  idea  ran,  and  that 
was  of  the  wealth  which  would  come  to  him  through 


THE    CHOICE  177 

this  death.  He  did  not  know  how  much  it  was,  but 
he  was  sure  that  it  was  a  very  large  amount.  He  was 
silent  during  the  rest  of  the  evening,  and  Asenath,  who 
had  forgotten  that  this  death  meant  riches  to  her 
fiance,  ascribed  his  taciturnity  to  grief.  She  wanted  to 
comfort  him  and,  when  they  were  alone  again,  ventured 
on  some  slight  marks  of  affection  which,  at  any  other 
time,  would  have  transported  him  to  the  seventh 
heaven,  but  which,  in  his  present  preoccupation,  only 
slightly  affected  him. 

On  his  way  home,  for  the  first  time  since  Friday 
evening,  he  was  again  in  doubt  about  his  engagement. 
The  prospect  of  immediate  great  wealth  made  a  dif- 
ference. His  now  assured  financial  position  behooved 
him  to  be  very  certain  that  Asenath  would  be  capable 
of  meeting  the  requirements  of  the  great  social  position 
which  he  now  contemplated.  He  felt  again  that  he  had 
been  foolish  in  his  precipitancy.  Why  had  he  sold 
himself  so  cheaply  after  all?  He  could  not  understand 
it  and  it  vexed  him. 

What  Mary  had  said  of  her  now  came  back  to  him 
with  force.  Asenath  was  ignorant,  there  was  no  doubt. 
She  was  undoubtedly  good,  but  just  as  undoubtedly 
she  was  not  clever.  What  magic  was  there  in  her  which 
controlled  him?  Why  had  he  capitulated  so  easily  last 
Friday  when  the  very  opportunity  which  he  had  sought 
lay  within  his  grasp? 

As  he  thought  of  this,  he  saw,  in  imagination,  her 


178  THE    CHOICE 

uplifted  face  with  tears  in  her  eyes  and  the  mute  expres- 
sion of  pain,  and  again  he  was  engulfed  in  a  great  wave 
of  sympathy,  of  desire  for  her.  Ah!  Well,  he  did  love 
her.  He  had  given  his  word  and  he  had  no  wish  to  take 
it  back. 

This  new  phase  of  his  life  surely  complicated  matters 
for  him.  He  wondered  what  he  would  be  called  upon  to 
do,  what  the  amount  of  his  fortune  would  be.  He 
wondered  if  Asenath  had  any  idea  of  how  lucky  she 
was.  And  then  the  thought  of  the  McBrides  came  to 
him,  their  ignorance,  their  worse  than  mediocrity,  and 
again  his  engagement  to  Asenath  was  a  burden. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A  noon  the  next  day,  when  Asenath  called  Rawl- 
ings  on  the  telephone  in  accordance  with  their 
custom,  she  was  much  surprised  to  learn  from 
him  that  he  was  going  to  leave  for  San  Francisco  in  the 
evening. 

"Won't  I  see  you  before  you  go?"  she  inquired. 

"Oh!  Yes.  I'm  not  leaving  until  ten-thirty.  I'll  be  up 
right  after  dinner,"  he  replied. 

He  had  not  explained  to  her  the  reason  for  his  going, 
and  she  wondered  what  it  might  be.  It  was  not  a  matter 
of  the  most  lively  interest  for  her ;  she  was  but  moderately 
curious.  San  Francisco  seemed  a  long  way  off,  but  she 
did  not  know  whether  it  was  a  journey  of  two  days  or 
one  of  a  week.  He  had  not  told  her  how  long  he  would  be 
away,  so  she  also  made  a  question  of  this.  A  week  would 
have  seemed  about  right,  but  then  she  remembered  that 
she  had  no  idea  of  how  long  it  would  take  to  make  the 
journey  and,  therefore,  following  her  usual  custom,  she 
put  the  whole  matter  aside.  She  would  know  in  due 
course,  so  why  waste  time  in  fruitless  speculation?  Then 
came  the  thought  that  she  would  miss  him;  she  had 
already  become  thoroughly  used  to  his  constant  com- 
panionship. How  would  she  spend  her  time? 

Rawlings'  going  had  been  decided  upon  as  the  result 
of  a  telegram  from  his  Uncle's  lawyer  suggesting  his 

179 


180  THECHOICE 

coming  at  once  to  make  necessary  arrangements.  The 
telegram  had  informed  him  that  he  had  been  named  as 
one  of  the  executors  of  the  will. 

During  the  morning,  Rawlings  had  again  determined 
to  break  his  engagement.  His  thoughts  of  the  evening 
before  came  to  him  with  redoubled  force.  He  had  always 
taken  himself  rather  seriously,  but,  now,  he  seemed  to 
have  become  a  hundredfold  more  important  than  ever 
before.  He  felt  that  he  saw  the  matter  clearly,  dispas- 
sionately, where,  before,  he  had  been  misled  by  an 
attachment,  an  attachment  only,  for  a  most  charming 
young  girl,  it  is  true,  yet  one  scarcely  worthy  to  share 
the  important  position  in  life  which  would  now  become 
his.  It  was  a  sort  of  infatuation,  he  admitted,  even 
though,  up  to  the  present,  it  had  seemed  to  him  to  be 
much  more,  a  real  love  affair.  He  was  graciously  sorry 
for  her;  it  would  be  a  great  disappointment  to  her  and 
her  family,  but,  after  all,  it  was  much  better  for  her  to 
suffer  the  pain  of  parting  with  him  now  than  for  him  to 
bear  the  burden  of  her  during  his  whole  career.  Besides, 
she  was  very  young  and  would  probably  get  over  it,  and, 
in  due  course,  marry  someone  in  her  own  station  in  life. 

He  felt  immensely  relieved  when  he  had  come  to  this 
decision.  There  was  no  room  in  his  satisfaction  for  self- 
accusation.  He  had  made  a  mistake,  this  much  he  was 
willing  to  allow,  but  he  was  going  to  admit  it  in  a  manly 
way.  No  one  could  do  more. 

But  when,  in  McBrides'  doorway,  he  again  was  unable 


THE    CHOICE  181 

to  refuse  the  invitation  in  Asenath's  upturned  face,  he 
knew  that  he  could  never  break  with  her  in  her  presence. 
She  was  particularly  charming  to  him  this  evening.  She 
inquired  minutely  into  the  length  of  his  stay,  how  long 
a  time  would  be  required  for  the  journey,  about  his 
uncle  and  many  other  matters  connected  with  his  going 
away. 

Gradually  he  fell  completely  under  the  spell  of  her 
charm  and  called  himself  a  fool  for  ever  thinking  that 
he  could  do  without  her.  Presently,  he  asked  her: 

"Will  you  miss  me?" 

"Oh,  yes,  dreadfully,"  she  answered.  "I  won't  know 
what  to  do  with  myself." 

"You'll  write  to  me  every  day,  won't  you?"  he  asked. 

This  was  something  she  had  not  thought  of .  Writing  let- 
ters was  a  fearful  undertaking  to  her.  She  was  reminded 
of  her  last  attempt,  the  unfinished  letter  to  Lamed. 

However,  she  felt  compelled  to  promise  to  write  to 
him  every  day. 

"  You  won't  mind  how  dumb  my  letters  are,  will  you?" 
she  asked  anxiously. "  When  I  start  to  write,  it  just  seems 
as  though  I  can't  think  at  all." 

"They  will  be  lovely  letters  for  me,  my  dear,"  he 
said,  "for  you  will  have  written  them." 

And  so  on. 

One  thing  he  did  not  mention  and  that  was  the  for- 
tune he  had  inherited.  Of  course,  he  did  not  know  that 
Asenath  had  forgotten  that  he  had  mentioned  the  mat- 


182  THE    CHOICE 

ter  to  her.  He  could  not  guess  that  she  thought  him 
rich  with  his  three  thousand  a  year  and  would  have 
looked  on  this  new  fortune  as  unnecessary;  good  to 
have,  perhaps,  but  superfluous.  He  could  not  have  told 
why  he  did  not  mention  this  matter  to  her,  although  it 
was  the  principal  subject  of  his  thought  apart  from  his 
present  absorption  in  her. 

At  nine-thirty,  he  left  her  with  a  display  of  affection 
even  more  fervent  than  usual  at  their  partings.  She  was 
almost  sad  as  he  left.  For  the  first  time,  he  had  aroused 
some  real  affectionate  emotion  in  her.  Not  very  much, 
it  is  true,  and  what  there  was  of  it  distinctly  not  of  a 
passionate  nature,  but  still  enough  to  make  his  going 
seem  a  real  loss. 

As  he  turned  to  wave  his  hand  to  her  at  the  corner, 
he  saw  a  sad  little  smile  on  her  lovely  face  which  smote 
him  with  sudden  remorse  for  his  unfulfilled,  but  seri- 
ously contemplated,  determination. 

The  following  evening  Asenath  sat  herself  before  the 
table  in  her  room,  laid  a  sheet  of  writing  paper  upon  it, 
picked  up  a  pen,  dipped  it  in  the  ink  and  wrote  the  date 
at  the  top  of  the  page. 

Then  she  gave  herself  up  to  thought.  How  should  she 
address  him?  "Dear  Jim?"  No,  that  was  too  ordinary. 
"My  darling?"  No,  that  was  too  gushing.  She  never 
called  him  "darling."  Sometimes  she  would  say  "Jim, 
dear."  That  was  it.  That  was  nice  and  rather  original. 
So  she  wrote  "Jim,  dear,"  at  the  beginning  of  the  letter. 


THE    CHOICE  183 

Then  came  more  thought.  What  should  she  write? 
What  on  earth  was  there  to  write?  She  had  not  done  a 
single  thing  all  day  that  wasn't  exactly  what  she  did 
every  day.  She  couldn't  write  stuff  like  that  to  him. 
Then  she  questioned  herself;  what  should  she  say  to 
him  if  he  were  with  her?  Well,  he  wasn't  with  her,  and 
she  couldn't  imagine  anything  that  she  would  have  told 
him,  anyway.  It  depended  on  what  he  would  say  to  her. 
He  always  furnished  the  subjects  of  their  conversation. 
She  wished  he  was  with  her;  it  was  fearfully  dull  sitting 
there  trying  to  write  a  letter  instead  of  having  him  to 
talk  to  her  and  saying  such  pleasant  things,  too.  She 
would  write  that  to  him. 

So,  under  the  superscription,  she  wrote: 

I  miss  you  so  that  I  can't  tell  you  how  much. 
I  am  writing  to  you  but  wishing  you  were  here, 
it  is  so  lonely.  I  guess  you  have  spoiled  me, 
because  before  we  were  engaged  I  used  to  sit 
alone  many  a  night  all  by  myself  and  I  was  just 
as  happy  as  I  could  be.  I  hope  you  will  soon 
be  back  with  me  again. 

Mamma  and  papa  are  both  well  and  send 
their  best  regards. 

With  lots  of  love  and  kisses, 

Yours  ever, 
Asenath. 

There  were  a  great  many  words  crossed  out  and  other 
marks  of  the  prodigious  labor  involved  in  this  composi- 
tion. Asenath  read  this  first  copy  several  times  and  found 


184  THE    CHOICE 

it  quite  satisfactory.  Then  she  wrote  a  fair  copy,  inclosed 
it  in  an  envelope,  which  she  addressed  and  then  affixed  a 
stamp.  Then  she  ran  downstairs  and  out  to  the  corner 
box  to  mail  it. 

She  felt  very  happy.  As  she  came  back  to  the  house 
she  was  humming  a  tune  with  great  enjoyment.  There 
was  no  trace  in  her  expression  that  the  loneliness,  of 
which  she  had  complained  in  her  letter,  was  causing  her 
any  depression  of  spirits. 

Still  humming,  she  came  into  the  house  and  sat  by  her 
mother,  who  was  sewing.  They  fell  into  conversation.  Mrs. 
McBride  was  very  curious  about  Rawlings'  departure. 
She  wondered  why  he  had  gone  away  so  suddenly. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  this  Uncle?  "  she  asked. 

"All  I  know  is  his  name  was  George  and  he  wasn't 
married,"  answered  Asenath. 

"Was  he  rich?" 

"I  don't  know."  Then  suddenly  she  remembered 
what  Rawlings  had  told  her. 

"Yes,  I  do  know,  too,"  she  said.  "Jim  told  me  some 
time  ago  that  he  would  get  a  lot  of  money  from  his 
Uncle  George,  but  he  didn't  expect  to  get  it  for  a  long 
time."  She  thought  for  a  moment,  and  then  went  on: 
"Jim  and  Mary  were  terribly  surprised  when  they  got 
the  telegram.  He  died  awful  sudden." 

"I  guess  that's  why  James  went  away  so  sudden," 
remarked  Mrs.  McBride.  "  Did  he  tell  you  why  he  was 
going?" 


THE     CHOICE  185 

"Nothing  about  any  money." 

"Was  he  very  fond  of  his  Uncle?" 

"  I  guess  so.  When  he  got  the  telegram,  he  was  awful 
quiet." 

"  I  hope  he  don't  get  too  much  money.  It  might  make 
him  want  to  change  his  mind." 

"Change  his  mind  about  what?" 

"Change  his  mindabout  marrying  a  poor  girl  like  you." 

"Why!  Mamma;  he's  just  crazy  about  me." 

"I  know,  but  don't  forget  it  was  awful  sudden,  and 
maybe — well,  you  never  can  tell." 

"Never  can  tell  about  what?" 

"You  never  can  tell  about  men.  They're  awful  change- 
able. To  hear  them  talk  you'd  think  it's  the  women  who 
are  flighty,  but  I  think  it's  the  other  way  about.  Did 
you  write  to  James?  " 

"Yes,  I  just  mailed  the  letter." 

Somewhat  later,  as  Asenath  was  undressing,  she  won- 
dered whether  there  was  anything  in  the  idea  her  mother 
had  expressed.  Could  it  be  possible  that  Rawlings  might 
grow  tired  of  her  and  want  to  break  the  engagement? 
Why,  only  last  night  it  seemed  as  though  he  could  never 
tear  himself  away.  Surely  there  could  be  no  possible 
doubt.  But  if  there  were,  what  then?  Could  she  ever 
be  contented  again?  Could  she  give  up  the  prospect  of 
the  luxurious  life  on  which  she  had  based  all  of  her  hopes 
for  the  last  few  weeks?  Oh !  it  would  be  awful  to  contem- 
plate. It  could  not  be.  But  the  shadow  of  doubt  that 


186  THE    CHOICE 

her  mother  had  put  into  her  mind  persisted.  It  might  be 
that  Rawlings,  away  from  her,  might  meet  some  girl 
whom  he  would  like  better.  She  wished  that  he  had  not 
gone  away,  she  had  been  so  contented,  so  happy.  It  was 
silly  to  go  on  like  this,  she  thought;  she  would  put  the 
whole  thing  out  of  her  mind.  She  extinguished  the  light 
and  got  into  bed,  expecting,  as  usual,  that  she  would  be 
asleep  in  two  minutes.  But  sleep  did  not  come  to  her  and, 
instead,  the  doubt  of  her  lover's  constancy  did.  Well, 
if  he  became  tired  of  her  and  wanted  someone  else,  she 
couldn't  help  it.  Somebody  else  would  come  along  some 
day.  Rawlings  wasn't  the  only  man  on  earth.  And  then 
Larned  came  into  her  mind.  How  deligthful  he  was;  how 
lively  she  felt  when  she  was  with  him.  And  how  silly 
she  was  now  to  think  of  his  ever  caring  for  her.  Besides, 
her  mother  was  mistaken.  Rawlings  had  shown,  in 
every  way,  how  serious  he  had  considered  their  engage- 
ment. Why,  he  had  even  considered  his  kissing  her  a 
declaration.  Her  mother  might  be  right  with  regard  to 
some  men,  but  never  about  Rawlings.  He  was  solid; 
he  knew  his  o^n  mind;  he  was — and  she  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

DURING  the  next  ten  days  Asenath  insensibly 
dropped  back  into  her  old  way  of  life.  At  first, 
she  really  missed  Rawlings;  that  is,  when  the 
relief  that  she  felt,  the  day  after  his  departure,  had 
passed  away. 

The  next  day  after  that,  she  found  the  prospect  of 
spending  the  evening  without  seeing  him  very  dull. 
During  the  lunch  hour,  she  asked  Susan  to  spend  the 
evening  with  her,  at  McBrides',  of  course,  but  Susan 
had  made  an  appointment,  "date"  she  called  it,  with 
May  Wilson,  whose  intimate  friend  she  had  now  become, 
and,  knowing  that  May  did  not  like  Asenath,  particularly 
since  the  cavalier  treatment  she  had  received  at  the  hands 
of  Rawlings,  she  was  unable  to  accept  the  invitation. 

That  made  the  prospect  of  a  solitary  evening  even 
duller  than  before.  The  fact  quite  justified  the  expecta- 
tion. None  of  her  former  evening  occupations  interested 
her,  and,  at  about  half -past  eight,  she  went  to  bed  because 
of  sheer  boredom. 

But  this  was  only  for  a  few  days.  At  the  end  of  the 
first  week,  Asenath  had  become  quite  habituated  to 
Rawlings'  absence.  He  was  in  her  mind,  naturally,  but 
not  as  before.  She  had  become  accustomed  to  going 
along  as  she  had  before  he  had  stepped  into  her  life. 

On  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day  of  his  absence,  she 

187 


188  THECHOICE 

had  received  a  brief  letter  from  him  written  en  route. 
Had  she  had  any  experience  at  all  in  such  matters,  either 
at  first  or  second  hand,  she  might  have  noticed  the  per- 
functory quality  of  his  letter,  which  offered  the  most 
violent  contrast  to  his  ordinary  manner  with  her.  But 
Asenath  did  not  notice  it.  To  her  a  letter  was  a  very 
formal,  a  most  unusual  affair.  She  would  have  been 
quick  to  feel  the  affectionate  quality  of  a  message  writ- 
ten in  a  warmth  of  emotion,  but  she  was  without  any 
standard  which  would  have  enabled  her  to  establish 
a  comparison. 

Another  letter  of  much  the  same  sort  followed  at  an 
interval  of  two  days,  and  a  third  three  days  later.  Just 
eleven  days  after  his  going,  she  received  the  last  letter 
which  he  ever  wrote  her.  It  had  come  in  the  morning 
after  she  had  gone  to  work  and  she  found  it  awaiting  her 
on  the  bureau  in  her  room.  It  was  Saturday  afternoon 
and  she  was  home  early.  She  had  been  wondering  whether 
she  would  have  a  letter.  Not  with  impatience,  because 
she  had  no  idea  of  the  time  necessary  to  bring  a  letter 
across  the  continent,  but  merely  with  the  hope  that  she 
might  have  the  pleasurable  sensation  that  the  important 
function  of  receiving  a  letter  gave  her.  It  was,  therefore, 
with  great  satisfaction  that  she  opened  the  envelope  and 
set  herself  to  reading.  The  letter  ran  thus: 
Dear  Asenath: 

I  don't  know  how  to  begin  this  letter.  I 
want  to  save  you  all  I  can,  but  I  do  not  know 


THE    CHOICE  189 

how  to  say  what  I  feel  I  must  in  any  way  that 
does  not  make  it  painful.  I  hope  you  will  be 
able  to  forgive  me  the  wrong  I  have  done  you 
in  acting  on  an  impulse  which  led  me  to  take 
what  I  am  now  forced  to  believe  was  an  unjus- 
tifiable step. 

There  is  no  use  trying  to  put  it  in  any 
other  than  the  most  straightforward  way.  Our 
engagement  was  a  terrible  mistake  and  I 
want  you  to  release  me  from  it.  You  may 
ascribe  any  reason  for  it  that  will  help  to 
save  your  feelings.  I  am  willing  to  confirm  any 
statement  that  you  may  care  to  make. 

I  am  most  miserable  over  the  whole  business. 
I  see  that  I  have  been  altogether  at  fault,  but 
it  is  much  better  that  we  have  the  pain  now 
than  to  look  forward  to  a  married  life  which, 
I  am  sure,  would  make  us  both  unhappy.  I 
have  been  thinking  about  nothing  else  for  over 
a  week  and  I  cannot  see  any  other  course. 

Drop  me  a  line  telling  me  what  you  are  going 
to  say  about  it. 

You  will  always  have  my  esteem  and  friend- 
ship, if  you  want  it.  You  have  done  nothing  at 
all  with  which  to  reproach  yourself.  The  fault 

is  mine  entirely.  0.         , 

Sincerely  yours, 

James  Rawlings. 

As  the  purport  of  this  letter  became  clear  to  Asenath, 
it  seemed  as  though  her  heart  had  stopped  beating.  She 
read  the  letter  to  its  end  in  a  sort  of  semi-stupor.  Her 
mind  refused  to  take  in  the  full  meaning  of  the  words 


190  THE    CHOICE 

before  her.  It  seemed  as  though  she  was  about  to  be 
crushed  by  some  on-moving  mass  without  the  ability 
to  avoid  it  or  save  herself  in  any  way.  She  read  and 
re-read  the  letter  many  times  and,  gradually,  the  con- 
sciousness of  its  meaning  became  clear.  Then  she  sat 
still  and  tried  to  find  a  reason  for  it  all.  What  had  she 
done?  What  could  have  happened  to  bring  about  such 
a  result?  Why  had  he  been  so  ardent  in  his  pursuit  of 
her,  if  this  was  his  real  feeling?  What  could  she  do? 
What  could  she  say?  And  then  anger  seized  her.  She 
felt  that  she  wanted  to  hurt  him,  tear  him,  destroy  him. 
Oh!  but  he  was  mean,  brutal,  even  worse. 

And  then  the  tears  came.  For  a  long  time  she  wept 
quietly  with  no  sensation  except  that  of  blank  misery. 

Mrs.  McBride  had  awaited  her  coming  downstairs 
with  the  letter  as  long  as  her  curiosity  allowed,  and, 
when  that  had  reached  its  uttermost  limit,  she  came  to 
Asenath's  room  and  entered  without  formality.  The 
moment  she  saw  her  daughter's  tear-stained  face,  with 
its  expression  of  complete  misery,  she  divined  the  cause. 

"What  on  earth's  happened?"  she  cried. 

Asenath  handed  the  letter  to  her.  She  read  it  with  a 
feeling  almost  of  terror.  But  this  was  for  a  short  space 
only.  Then  indignation  seized  her. 

"The  dirty  blackguard,"  she  cried.  "The  lying 
hound.  To  come  into  a  family  like  this  who  have  always 
done  right  and  to  play  us  a  trick  like  this.  And  him  a 
church  member,  too,  who  wants  to  be  an  elder.  I'll  show 


THE    CHOICE  191 

him.  I'll  make  his  name  as  black  as  his  heart  is.  I'll — " 

"Don't,  mamma.  Please  don't  talk  like  that,"  cried 
Asenath,  not  knowing  what  she  said.  She  would  have 
been  irritated  by  anything  her  mother  might  have  said. 
Her  speech  was  simply  the  expression  of  her  misery. 

"  Won't  I?  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  McBride.  "  See  what  your 
father'll  have  to  say.  He'll  make  him  smart  for  what  he's 
done,  the  dirty  dog." 

"What's  the  use?"  said  Asenath.  "It  won't  do  any 
good.  He  don't  want  me,  that's  all.  Oh!"  and  she  relapsed 
into  weeping. 

As  Mrs.  McBride  watched  Asenath  she  felt  very 
miserable.  She  would  have  liked  to  take  her  in  her  arms 
to  comfort  her,  but  the  McBrides  never  did  anything  of 
the  sort.  They  held  each  other  literally  at  arm's  length 
in  all  matters  of  the  affections.  Among  them  was  the 
strongest  possible  family  feeling.  They  were  one  family, 
no  matter  what  happened.  But  it  was  not  possible  to 
learn  this  from  anything  that  any  of  them  ever  said. 
On  the  contrary,  they  criticised  each  other  freely  to 
their  friends.  Nor  could  it  be  determined  by  any  gesture 
of  affection,  for  none  was  ever  offered.  But  this  clan 
spirit,  the  feeling  of  the  indissolvable  unity  of  the  family, 
was  shown  most  clearly  by  their  own  acceptance  of  it. 
They  took  it  for  granted ;  they  acted  as  though  it  were  so 
definite,  so  settled  a  matter,  that  it  did  not  require  any 
evidence  of  its  existence. 

At  this  bitter  moment  for  Asenath,  her  mother's  arms 


192  THE    CHOICE 

about  her  would  have  sensibly  lessened  her  pain.  But  she 
did  not  know  this,  for  she  was  unused  to  marks  of 
affection.  Mrs.  McBride  scarcely  ever  even  kissed  her, 
and  when  she  did  it  was  only  a  peck. 

Mrs.  McBride  and  Asenath  sat  there  silently  in  the 
deepest  misery  for  quite  a  long  while,  the  mother  full  of 
sympathy  for  her  daughter  and  the  latter  concerned 
with  her  own  disappointment  only.  Gradually  the  full 
realization  of  the  event  came  to  Asenath.  She  was  not 
to  be  rich ;  would  not  have  an  automobile,  no  servants,  no 
elegant  house. 

And  again  she  was  seized  by  an  unreasoning  anger; 
she  wanted  to  harm  Rawlings,  to  make  him  suffer  as 
she  was  suffering  now. 

"There's  your  father,"  suddenly  said  Mrs.  McBride. 
There  had  been  the  sound  of  the  closing  of  the  front 
door,  but  Asenath  had  not  heard  it. 

"  Will  you  come  down,"  asked  Mrs.  McBride,  as  Asen- 
ath made  no  answer,  "or  will  I  tell  him  to  come  up  here?  " 

"Must  I  see  him?"  asked  Asenath. 

"You  ought  to.  He'll  know  justwhat  you  ought  to  do." 

"I'll  come  down  then." 

They  went  downstairs  and  found  McBride  in  the 
dining  room.  He  had  taken  off  his  coat  and  hat  and  was 
preparing  to  remove  his  shoes  when  they  entered.  He 
greeted  them  with  a  nod. 

"What  do  you  think,"  cried  his  wife  without  any 
other  preliminary,  "James  has  broken  off  with  Asenath. 


THE    CHOICE  193 

Read  that!"  And  she  literally  pushed  the  letter  into 
his  hand. 

McBride  gave  no  outward  sign  of  the  agitation  which 
possessed  him  as  he  read  the  letter,  but  it  caused  him 
to  hold  himself  in  a  tight  grip.  He  read  it  slowly,  taking 
in  each  word.  To  the  two  women  it  seemed  an  eternity. 
When  he  had  finished  he  looked  at  them  for  a  moment 
and  then  said: 

"  That'll  be  the  last  of  him  in  our  church  or  my  name's 
not  McBride.  I'll  show  him  that  he  can't  come  philander- 
ing in  my  house  with  my  daughter." 

"What  will  everybody  say?"  cried  Mrs.  McBride. 
"What'll  we  tell  them?" 

"  We'll  tell  the  truth.  There's  no  disgrace  to  any  of  us. 
The  shame  is  on  him.  He's  the  jilt,  not  our  girl.  We'll 
show  them  in  church  tomorrow  morning." 

"Oh!  I  can't  go  to  church  tomorrow  after  all  this," 
said  Asenath. 

To  church  you'll  go  tomorrow  if  I  have  to  take  you 
out  of  a  sick  bed.  Do  you  think  I'd  have  anybody  say 
that  we  were  ashamed  or  that  we  were  down  in  the 
mouth  because  a  lying  jilt  imposed  on  us?  No;  you'll  go 
to  church,  and  you'll  hold  your  head  high,  too.  Do  you 
hear?" 

"Yes,  papa,"  said  Asenath. 


PART  THREE 

LARNED 
CHAPTER  XXIV 

IN  the  next  few  weeks  Asenath  recovered  her  usual 
contented  outlook  on  life.  Gradually  she  forgot  to 
dwell  upon  the  loss  that  she  had  suffered.  She  ceased 
to  think  of  herself  as  deeply  injured  unless  there  was 
some  forcible  reminder.  At  such  times,  she  would  indulge 
in  the  luxury  of  self-pity,  but,  for  the  most  part,  she 
did  not  think  of  her  short  engagement  and  the  brilliant 
future  that  she  had  believed  it  promised  her.  She  enjoyed 
her  work;  she  had  her  usual  lively  interest  in  her  dress; 
she  went  to  church  willingly,  if  without  enthusiasm, 
and,  in  general,  was  much  the  same  girl  as  before. 
Exactly  the  same  she  could  not  have  been  under  any 
circumstances. 

Her  friendship  with  Susan  was  maintained,  but  not 
with  the  same  interest  as  before.  This  was  largely  owing 
to  Susan's  attitude,  who,  as  has  been  mentioned,  had 
become  quite  friendly  with  May  Wilson.  She  had  come 
to  be  one  of  the  group  of  boys  and  girls  of  which  May  was 
a  member.  She  would  have  been  glad  to  introduce 
Asenath  into  "the  bunch,"  as  she  called  it,  but  for  the 
fact  that  May  did  not  like  Asenath.  And,  immediately 
after  the  breaking  of  her  engagement,  Asenath  was 
reluctant  to  show  herself.  She  felt  very  much  as  does  the 

194 


THECHOICE  195 

average  mourner;  it  seemed  to  her  that  it  would  not  be 
fitting  to  evince  any  capability  for  enjoyment. 

Of  course,  this  feeling  wore  off  promptly,  and,  in  a 
few  weeks,  Asenath  would  have  gladly  accepted  any 
offer  of  entertainment.  But,  by  that  time,  Susan  had 
lost  much  of  her  former  active  interest  in  her.  Just  now, 
Asenath  had  nothing  to  offer  her  in  the  way  of  social 
opportunity. 

Asenath  experienced  a  great  relief  every  time  she 
looked  at  her  edition  of  Thackeray.  That  much  at 
least  was  saved  to  her;  she  was  no  longer  compelled  to 
read  "Vanity  Fair."  She  had  offered  these  books 
together  with  her  engagement  ring  and  the  la  valliere 
to  Mary  Dunne  shortly  after  receiving  Rawlings' 
final  letter.  Mary  had  found  the  interview  rather 
painful.  She  was  confident  that  her  brother  had  done 
well  to  break  an  engagement  which  he  found  irksome, 
as  it  promised  only  unhappiness  if  carried  to  its  eventual 
conclusion,  but  the  sight  of  Asenath's  obvious  effort 
to  appear  well  under  trying  circumstances  made  her 
distinctly  uncomfortable.  She  was  really  very  sorry 
for  her,  although  she  had  complete  confidence  that  a 
comparatively  short  period  of  time  would  cure  her  pres- 
ent trouble.  It  will  be  remembered  that  Mary  did  not  be- 
lieve that  Asenath's  affections  had  been  deeply  engaged. 

She  took  the  ring  and  refused  to  receive  the  la 
valliere,  asking  Asenath  to  keep  it  as  a  mark  of  her 
friendship,  which,  she  assured  her,  had,  in  no  way,  been 


196  THE    CHOICE 

affected  by  what  had  happened.  Of  course,  Asenath 
had  not  brought  the  books  with  her,  and  Mary  advised 
her  to  keep  them,  or,  if  she  found  them  an  unpleasant 
reminder,  to  give  them  away.  Asenath  did  not  know 
how  to  persist  in  the  face  of  Mary's  kindness  and 
determined  to  give  them  to  the  church  library  at  the 
first  opportunity.  But  she  did  not  do  this  promptly, 
and,  finally,  she  did  not  do  it  at  all.  They  were  in  her 
room,  and,  until  she  had  grown  so  accustomed  to  their 
presence  there  that  they  lost  their  identity  in  the  general 
scheme,  she  had  a  malicious  pleasure  in  the  thought 
that  she  did  not  have  to  read  them. 

Every  now  and  then  she  saw  Larned  either  coming 
into  or  going  out  of  the  building,  perhaps  as  often 
as  once  in  two  weeks,  but  she  never  had  an  opportunity 
to  speak  to  him  until  one  Monday  morning  when  she 
met  him  at  the  door  about  two  months  after  their 
first  meeting. 

It  was  a  fine,  bright  winter  morning,  not  too  cold 
to  make  standing  still  in  the  street  uncomfortable, 
but  just  enough  to  be  stimulating.  Asenath's  cheeks 
offered  eloquent  testimony  of  her  complete  enjoyment  of 
the  short  walk  from  the  car  in  this  bracing  atmosphere. 

She  appeared  to  him  so  beautiful  that  he  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  to  stop  to  chat  with  her. 

Asenath  was  somewhat  ahead  of  her  usual  time  for 
arrival  and  they  fell  into  talk  easily  without  any  sense 
of  hurry. 


THE    CHOICE  197 

"How  do  you  do,"  said  Lamed.  He  was  cudgeling 
his  memory  for  her  name.  "McBride"  he  could  not 
remember  at  all,  and  the  fact  that  her  Christian  name 
was  that  of  Joseph's  wife  was  all  that  he  could  recollect. 

"I'm  fine,"  answered  Asenath,  brightly.  She  was 
delighted  to  meet  him.  It  made  her  feel  gay. 

"How's  Joseph?"  he  asked. 

"Joseph?" 

"I  mean — your  fiance.  You  know  we  agreed  that  his 
name  ought  to  be  Joseph,  don't  you?" 

This  came  with  a  little  shock  to  Asenath.  But  only 
a  very  little  one,  for  with  it  came  a  realizing  sense  that 
in  Larned's  presence  she  was  glad  to  be  free. 

"We're  not  engaged  any  more,"  said  she.  She  made 
this  avowal  without  the  difficulty  that  would  naturally 
have  been  expected. 

Lamed  was  somewhat  embarrassed. 

"I  did  not  know  it,"  he  said,  "or  I  would  not  have 
made  the  stupid  joke.  I  hope  I  haven't  hurt  you." 

"Oh!  Not  at  all.  It's  an  old  story  now — nearly  two 
months.  I  thought  everybody  knew  it." 

Larned  wished  to  put  her  at  her  ease.  "If  I  had 
known  it,"  he  said,  "I  would  have  been  knocking  at 
your  door  the  first  moment  I  thought  there  was  a 
chance.  I  suppose  I'm  too  late  now."  His  laugh  added 
just  the  right  indication  of  the  way  in  which  his  banter 
was  to  be  received. 

But  Asenath  did  not  wish  to  consider  it  as  merely  a 


198  THE    CHOICE 

joke.  To  have  him  knocking  at  her  door  was  a  con- 
summation devoutly  to  be  wished. 

"No,  you're  not,"  she  said,  with  a  smile  which 
accentuated  the  ingenuousness  of  her  remark. 

Lamed  could  not  resist  asking:  "Would  you  really 
like  me  to  try?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered. 

"Do  you  think  I'll  knock  in  vain?"  he  asked. 

"When  will  you  come?"  she  queried,  entirely  dis- 
regarding his  question. 

"What  has  that  to  do  with  it?" 

"I'd  just  like  to  know,"  she  insisted. 

"But  you  don't  answer  any  of  my  questions." 

"Don't  I?  Well,  neither  do  you  answer  mine." 

"All  right.  I'll  make  a  bargain  with  you.  I'll  answer 
yours  first — your  sex  always  has  precedence — if  you'll 
promise  to  answer  mine." 

"All  right,"  said  Asenath,  highly  delighted,  as  always 
when  she  was  talking  with  him.  There  was  something 
that  she  felt  differentiated  him  from  all  other  people 
she  had  ever  known.  Not  only  was  his  every  word 
interesting,  but  he  made  it  easy  for  her  to  talk,  too.  She 
felt  that  when  she  was  with  him  she  always  knew  just 
what  to  say. 

"But  you  haven't  promised.  So  we  had  better  talk 
about  something  else.  Do  you  think  it  will  snow?"  he 
asked,  looking  at  the  perfectly  clear  sky  with  mock 
seriousness. 


THE    CHOICE  199 

"I  promise,"  answered  Asenath  with  a  smile  which 
made  plain  her  appreciation  of  his  joke. 

"Well  then,  ask  your  questions." 

"There's  only  one.  When  will  you"  come  to — to 
knock  on  the  door?" 

"How  about  Wednesday  evening?" 

"That's  just  why  I  wanted  to  know,  because  on 
Wednesday  evening  I  have  to  go  to  prayer  meeting." 

"Couldn't  we  have  our  own  prayer  meeting?" 

Asenath  laughed  gaily. 

"Papa  wouldn't  stand  for  that  kind  of  a  prayer 
meeting.  He's  awful  cranky  about  going  to  church.  I 
just  have  to  go  every  Wednesday,  no  matter  what 
happens."  She  would  have  liked  to  ask  him  to  come 
some  other  evening,  but  something  prevented  her, 
she  could  not  have  told  what. 

"Let  me  see,"  he  said,  thoughtfully.  "Thursday, 
Friday,  Saturday.  How  about  Saturday?" 

"That  would  be  fine." 

"Now  answer  my  question." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Will  I  knock  in  vain?" 

"You  don't  have  to  knock.  You  can  ring  the  bell." 
She  said  this  quite  seriously  but  Lamed  took  it  as  a 
form  of  humor.  He  found  her  more  charming  than 
ever;  he  wanted  to  become  well  acquainted  with  her; 
he  thought  that  he  wished  to  learn  the  secret  of  her 
attraction  for  him. 


200  THE    CHOICE 

"Well,  then,"  he  said,  "will  I  ring  in  vain?" 

"No,"  said  Asenath,  "I'll  open  the  door  myself." 

"Very  well,  what's  the  address?" 

"Same  as  before,"  she  answered. 

"Oh!  that's  so,"  he  exclaimed.  He  had  quite  for- 
gotten having  her  name  and  address.  This  was  for- 
tunate, for  it  saved  him  admitting  that  again  he  had 
not  remembered  her  name. 

"Saturday  then,"  said  Asenath. 

"Saturday,"  he  answered,  and  they  entered  the 
building  and  went  their  respective  ways. 

At  lunch  time  Asenath  told  Susan  that  she  had  met 
Lamed  again  and  that  he  was  coming  to  call  on  her  on 
Saturday  evening. 

"How  do  you  get  away  with  it,  Queenie?"  asked 
Susan. 

Asenath  showed  her  pleasure  at  the  implied  compli- 
ment but  did  not  answer  the  question.  Instead,  she 
asked: 

"You  remember  him,  don't  you?" 

"Sure,  and  I  remember  that  stiff  he  had  with  him 
in  the  country.  What  was  his  name?" 

"Graham." 

"Yes,  that's  it.  You  sure  can  put  it  over.  I  wish  I 
knew  how.  What  do  you  do?" 

"I  don't  do  anything.  Do  you  think  he  likes  me?" 

"Ain't  he  coming  to  see  you?" 

Asenath  had  no  answer  for  this,  which  satisfied  her, 


THE    CHOICE  201 

so  she  dropped  the  subject,  and  Susan,  observing  a 
well  recognized  symptom,  did  not  press  her  inquiry. 

During  the  morning  and  at  several  other  times  on 
the  following  days,  Susan's  question  returned  to  her 
mind.  What  was  it  that  made  Larned  like  her?  She 
thought  of  the  question  and  wondered  what  the  answer 
might  be.  She  knew  that  she  was  very  good  looking 
and  briefly  this  idea  came  and  went,  but  did  not 
establish  a  durable  connection  in  her  mind  with  the 
inquiry  set  up  by  Susan's  remark.  She  did  not  even 
apply  the  general  principle  that  men  are  attracted  by 
feminine  beauty,  although  she  knew  this  precisely  as 
she  knew  how  to  discriminate  between  hot  and  cold. 

What  her  mind  dwelt  on,  in  this  connection,  was 
Larned  himself.  She  had  never  wanted  anybody  so 
before.  In  his  company,  she  forgot  herself  completely, 
she  was  supremely  happy.  The  sight  of  him,  the  sound 
of  his  voice,  the  feeling  of  his  physical  presence  exercised 
an  almost  magical  influence  upon  her.  She  hung  upon 
his  least  word,  she  reacted  to  his  slightest  change  of 
expression.  Asenath  did  not  know  these  things  as 
definite  facts,  they  did  not  make  themselves  clear  to 
her;  she  was  completely  innocent  of  introspection  of 
any  kind. 

But  what  she  did  know  was  that  she  wanted  to  see 
him,  that  she  wished  to  be  with  him,  and  she  looked 
forward  to  his  coming  on  Saturday  with  greater  interest 
than  she  had  ever  known  in  anything  in  her  whole  life. 


202 


THE    CHOICE 


She  did  not  wonder  why  she  did  so,  she  made  no 
attempt  to  analyze  her  emotions,  just  as  she  was 
quite  content  not  to  push  the  inquiry  which  Susan's 
question  had  brought.  That  was  answered  completely 
in  the  thought  "he  must  like  me." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  Saturday  evening  upon  which  Lamed  was 
to  make  his  call  upon  Asenath  was  bright  and 
cold.  When  he  issued  from  the  door  of  his  house 
he  was  tempted  to  walk  instead  of  riding,  as  he  had 
originally  intended.  He  yielded  readily  to  the  tempta- 
tion, for  he  was  greatly  given  to  walking  and,  by  prefer- 
ence, alone.  It  gave  him  an  opportunity  for  working  out 
his  ideas.  Larned  always  walked  rapidly  and  it  seemed 
as  though  the  exhilaration  induced  by  the  exercise 
speeded  up  his  mental  faculties  in  every  way. 

On  this  particular  evening  he  had  something  to  work 
out.  Several  times  since  he  had  made  the  appointment 
with  Asenath  he  wondered  what  had  led  him  to  make  it. 
He  admitted  readily  that  she  was  a  very  pretty  girl, 
he  knew  he  liked  them  good  looking;  that  she  had  excel- 
lent taste  in  her  dress,  he  always  admired  that;  her 
voice  was  pleasant,  her  changes  of  expression  most 
interesting,  her  smile  fascinating,  but  all  of  this  was  not 
enough.  He  was  confident  that  she  possessed  a  good 
mind,  even  though,  in  all  probability,  she  was  ignorant 
of  many  things  which  are  included  in  a  fair  education. 
He  did  not  know  this,  he  had  no  basis  for  any  such 
knowledge,  but  he  surmised  it.  Still,  she  was  young  and 
inexperienced,  and,  in  all  probability,  had  had  no  edu- 

203 


204  THE    CHOICE 

cation  at  all  except  what  she  might  have  picked  up  in 
the  elementary  schools.  From  what  she  had  told  him 
of  the  family's  church-going  habits,  he  supposed  that 
the  influence  of  her  parents  had  not  been  of  much  value 
in  her  secular  education. 

Truly,  except  for  her  looks  and  a  certain  general 
charm,  there  wasn't  much  to  her;  in  fact,  with  these 
exceptions,  she  was  undoubtedly  a  commonplace  young 
girl.  But  then,  if  this  was  true,  and  there  did  not  seem 
to  be  any  doubt  of  it,  why  was  he,  Harold  Prentis 
Larned,  going  to  see  her  with  great  pleasure,  why  was 
his  anticipation  of  enjoyment  so  lively? 

He  had  asked  himself  this  question  several  times  since 
he  had  made  the  appointment  with  her,  but  he  had  been 
unable  to  answer  it  satisfactorily,  and,  when  he  set  out 
on  Saturday  evening,  he  took  it  up  again  and  succeeded 
in  reaching  the  conclusion  that  it  wasn't  worth  while 
trying  to  find  a  reason  for  a  given  result  when  not  all 
of  the  factors  were  known.  He  worked  the  problem  out 
to  the  point  where  he  admitted  that  Asenath  possessed 
sufficient  charm  for  him  to  make  him  want  to  be  with 
her,  but  beyond  this  he  was  unable  to  go.  To  analyze 
this  quality  of  hers  was  impossible  in  view  of  the  small 
amount  of  time  he  had  spent  in  her  company. 

Larned  liked  to  work  things  out  scientifically.  He  was 
a  good  mathematician.  His  was  a  most  orderly  mind.  The 
only  child  of  two  fond  parents,  he  had  had  his  own  way 
in  life  thus  far.  Whether  as  a  result  of  his  own  individual 


THE    CHOICE  205 

character,  or  the  training  he  had  received,  or  both,  his 
way  was  not  that  of  a  spoiled  child.  He  had  chosen 
an  academic  career  immediately  after  his  graduation, 
had  followed  it  for  a  couple  of  years  and  had  given  it 
up  when  he  had  become  somewhat  doubtful  as  to  whether 
it  was  his  true  vocation.  At  the  university  he  had  taken 
the  course  in  electrical  engineering,  and,  therefore,  when 
he  reached  the  decision  to  discontinue  teaching,  he  had 
looked  for  a  position  in  that  field  and  obtained  a  fairly 
satisfactory  post  in  the  engineering  department  of  the 
telephone  company. 

His  father  had  not  offered  any  opposition,  although  he 
had  hoped  that  Harold  would  have  elected  to  come  into 
his  business.  While  he  was  by  no  means  a  rich  man,  his 
knitting  mill  paid  good  profits  and  was  what  might  be 
called  a  thoroughly  successful  business.  He  and  Harold 
were  close  friends,  their  friendship  based  upon  mutual 
respect  and  many  common  interests  which  Larned  senior 
had  carefully  cultivated  in  the  younger  man,  although 
it  must  be  said  that  the  soil  was  very  fertile  and  the  mere 
planting  of  the  seed  had  been  all  that  was  necessary. 

Harold's  relation  to  his  mother  was  naturally  quite 
different.  He  was  not  alone  her  "man  child,"  he  was  her 
baby  as  well.  Between  them  existed  the  most  perfect 
understanding.  She  was  a  very  wise  woman,  and,  what 
is  more,  a  very  good  one.  She  was  not  pious,  none  of 
them  were,  but  she  was  kind,  considerate,  tactful, 
directed  always  by  the  finest  motives. 


206  THE    CHOICE 

This  may  give  some  slight  idea  of  the  young  man  who 
was  walking  briskly  to  call  on  Asenath  on  this  fine 
Saturday  evening.  What  remains  to  be  learned  of  him 
will  be  disclosed  by  those  incidents  and  that  part  of  the 
development  of  Asenath's  early  womanhood  in  which 
he  figured. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  door  of  McBrides'  house,  he 
was  in  the  most  buoyant  spirits  imaginable.  He  rang 
the  bell  and  then  turned  his  back  to  the  door  to  employ 
the  moment  of  his  waiting  in  looking  at  the  brilliant 
full  moon.  He  had  scarcely  turned  before  he  heard  the 
noise  of  the  door  being  opened.  He  was  just  in  time  in 
turning  back  to  meet  the  full  opening  of  the  door  and, 
in  the  bright  moonlight,  he  saw  a  vision  which  he 
never  forgot.  It  was  Asenath,  in  her  simple,  tasteful 
dress,  her  face  illumined  by  a  smile  which  expressed  a 
quality  of  welcome  which  it  would  be  impossible  to  put 
into  words. 

"How  do  you  do,"  she  said,  holding  out  her  hand. 

He  took  it  and  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  without 
speaking. 

"You're  as  good  as  your  word,"  he  said  as  he  relin- 
quished her  hand  and  followed  her  into  the  house.  They 
went  into  the  parlor  after  Larned  had  hung  up  his  coat 
and  hat  on  the  rack  in  the  hall. 

"I've  been  in  an  awful  fix  about  you,"  Asenath  said, 
while  he  was  hanging  up  his  coat. 

"What  was  that?"  he  asked. 


THE    CHOICE  207 

"Papa  wanted  to  know  all  about  you  and  I  couldn't 
tell  him  a  single  thing  except  that  you  worked  for  the 
company  and  you  used  to  teach  school  and  your  name 
and  how  old  you  were." 

"Well,  wasn't  that  enough?" 

"  He  wanted  to  know  where  you  went  to  church  and 
I  couldn't  tell  him  because  I  didn't  know." 

"I  told  you." 

"When?" 

"Down  in  the  country  by  the  brook.  Don't  you 
remember?" 

"No." 

"I  told  you  I  never  went  to  church." 

"Oh!  I  know  that.  But  that  ain't  what  I  mean." 

"  What  do  you  mean?" 

"What  church  does  your  family  go  to?" 

"None." 

"They  must  belong  to  some  church." 

"Oh!  I  see.  Well,  the  last  association,  official  of  course, 
of  any  of  the  members  of  my  family,  was  with  the  Uni- 
tarian Church." 

"  I  never  heard  of  that  church.  Where  is  it?  " 

"At  Paley  and  Horton  Streets  there's  one." 

"Is  it  anything  like  the  Presbyterian  Church?" 

"  Some  people  call  the  Unitarians  Presbyterian  Jews." 

"You're  not  a  Jew,  are  you?" 

"No.  But  what  is  the  reason  of  your  father's  interest 
in  my  religion?" 


208  THE    CHOICE 

"He's  awful  cranky  about  who  comes  to  see  me,  and 
he  asked  me  a  lot  of  questions.  I  couldn't  tell  him  about 
your  church  and  then  he  raised  a  fuss  about  your 
coming  here  until  he  asked  me  if  your  father  was  in 
the  Lamed  Hosiery  Company  and  I  told  him  'yes,  he 
was'." 

"  How  did  you  know  it?  I  never  told  you." 

"  I  didn't  know  it,  but  he  had  me  near  crazy  with  all 
his  old  questions  and  when  he  asked  me  that  I  just  said 
'yes'  before  I  thought.  Then  it  was  all  right,  for  his 
factory — they  make  packing  boxes — does  business  with 
the  Lamed  Hosiery  Company." 

"So,  I'm  all  right  now,  am  I?" 

"Yes." 

This  was  a  great  deal  of  talk  for  Asenath,  so  much,  in 
fact,  that  she  was  surprised  at  her  own  verbosity. 

Larned  had  been  much  interested  in  what  she  had  told 
him.  He  thought  he  had  never  seen  such  charming 
naivete.  He  had  been  quite  conscious  of  her  rather  crude 
speech,  but  it  did  not  affect  him  unpleasantly.  Asenath's 
pleasure  in  his  visit  showed  itself  in  an  unusual  anima- 
tion. She  felt  lively,  gay,  happy,  and  her  color  and 
expression  evidenced  this  strongly.  He  found  her  even 
more  beautiful  than  he  had  thought  her.  He  was  enjoy- 
ing himself  keenly. 

They  talked  of  other  things;  every  subject  was  intro- 
duced by  Larned  and  practically  all  of  the  talking  was 
done  by  him.  Asenath  hung  on  his  least  word  and  indi- 


THE    CHOICE  209 

cated  her  interest  both  by  her  expression  and  an  occa- 
sional monosyllable.  At  length,  to  illustrate  something 
he  had  just  told,  Larned  said: 

"It  was  just  like  old  Gradgrind  in  'Hard  Times.'  You 
know?" 

He  said  this  quite  unconsciously,  taking  it  for  granted 
that  she  knew  the  story.  Had  he  thought,  he  would  have 
known  better.  The  pause  which  followed  his  remark  was 
occasioned  by  his  considering  how  he  might  best  relieve 
her  from  what  he  was  afraid  would  be  an  embarrassing 
situation.  But  Asenath  was  not  embarrassed  at  all. 
She  said : 

"No,  I  don't.  Tell  me  about  it." 

"About  what?" 

"About 'Old  Gradgrind'." 

"He  was  a  character  in  a  book  by  Dickens  called 
'Hard  Times.'  He  kept  a  school — You  don't  want  me  to 
tell  you  the  story." 

"Would  I  like  it?" 

"What  kind  of  stories  do  you  like?" 

"I  don't  know.  I've  never  read  any." 

"None  at  all?" 

"I  read  a  few  pages  in  'Vanity  Fair.'  Jim  gave  me  the 
whole  set,  but  I  didn't  like  it." 

This  was  decidedly  a  new  phase.  To  Larned  it  seemed 
almost  impossible  that  a  girl  of  nineteen  could  never 
have  read  anything.  He  was  much  interested.  This  offered 
him  an  opportunity  to  be  useful. 


210  THE    CHOICE 

"Was  that  really  the  first  book  you  ever  tried?"  he 
asked. 

"The  first  grown-up  book." 

"You  might  have  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  from  read- 
ing. Would  you  like  to  try  a  book  I  have,  one  I'm  sure 
you'd  enjoy?" 

Asenath  would  willingly  have  tried  anything  that 
Lamed  suggested. 

"I'd  love  to,"  she  said. 

"The  book  is  called  'Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage 
Patch.'  I'll  send  it  to  you." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Asenath.  The  name  of  the  book 
was  rather  promising,  and  then — Lamed  had  said  she 
would  like  it  and  that  carried  conviction. 

"Would  you  like  me  to  bring  the  book  with  me  the 
next  time  I  come,  provided,  of  course,  that  you  want 
me  to  come  again,  and  then  I  could  read  some  of  it  to 
you." 

"Oh!  That  would  be  grand,"  said  Asenath,  with  en- 
thusiasm. And  then  she  added  gravely:  "I  guess  you 
think  I'm  awful  dumb." 

"  I  certainly  do  not.  Stupidity  isn't  a  matter  of  educa- 
tion. A  really  stupid  person  would  be  one  who  had  had 
the  advantages  an  education  offers,  but  who  was  not 
able  to  get  anything  out  of  it.  On  the  other  hand,  there 
must  be  many  people  who  have  fine  minds  but  who, 
through  poverty  or  other  circumstances,  never  have  had 
the  opportunity  to  learn.  You're  very  foolish  to  think 


THE    CHOICE  211 

of  yourself  as  stupid  merely  because  you  haven't  had 
the  chance  to  acquire  a  taste  for  reading.  You're  plenty 
young  enough  to  begin  now.  I  don't  suppose  that  you 
ever  had  the  chance  to  go  to  the  high  school,  did  you?  " 

"No!"  said  Asenath.  "  I  only  went  part  way  through 
the  grammar  school."  She  was  delighted  to  learn  that 
Larned  did  not  think  her  "dumb."  He  did  not  use  that 
word.  He  said  "stupid."  She  made  a  mental  note  to 
employ  it  herself  hereafter. 

"I  don't  suppose  any  of  your  folks  read  much,  do 
they?" 

"Papa  reads  the  Bible  and  the  papers." 

"Well!  We'll  begin  your  literary  education  the  next 
time  I  come." 

"When  will  you  come?" 

"We'll  arrange  that  later  on." 

Larned  left  rather  early.  He  had  had  a  delightful 
evening.  He  had  found  Asenath  most  refreshing  and  he 
told  himself  that  he  could  be  of  use  to  her  in  helping 
her  to  acquire  a  taste  for  books.  It  was  an  interesting 
experiment.  No  longer  did  he  question  the  basis  of  her 
attraction  for  him.  She  had  every  attribute  of  feminine 
charm,  and,  in  addition,  she  offered  him  this  exceptional 
opportunity.  The  teacher  in  him  leaped  to  it  as  the  trout 
to  the  fly. 

All  of  his  carefully  reared  edifice  of  psychology  fell  to 
the  ground  in  the  face  of  Asenath 's  personality.  His 
pride  in  his  own  invulnerability  would  not  permit  him 


212  THE    CHOICE 

to  see  that  his  was  just  another  case  of  a  man  meeting 
the  woman  who  holds  for  him  that  inscrutable  attrac- 
tion which  defies  his  own  analysis.  He  did  not  yet  know 
that  she  was  that  woman.  He  knew  only  that  he  was 
happy  in  her  presence  and  the  opportunity  to  teach  her 
seemed  a  satisfactory  reason  for  his  extraordinary 
interest  in  her.  He  was  quite  willing  to  admit  a  fondness 
for  certain  of  her  sex  as  a  sufficient  basis  for  an  ordinary 
interest. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

ON  the  second  Tuesday  evening  following,  Larned 
presented  himself  at  McBrides'  in  fulfillment  of 
an  appointment  he  had  made  with  Asenath  a 
few  days  before.  She  met  him  at  the  door.  Never  in  her 
life  had  she  been  so  eager  about  anything  or  anybody  as 
she  was  now  with  regard  to  Larned.  He  was  in  her  mind 
much  of  the  time.  She  had  his  image  before  her;  she 
remembered  the  play  of  expression  on  his  face;  she  heard 
his  voice.  She  made  no  attempt  to  study  his  character 
or  his  mentality;  she  did  not  try  to  analyze  either  the 
man  or  his  actions.  Asenath's  mind  never  worked  that 
way.  She  thought  of  persons  and  things  as  concrete 
entities  only.  Mentally,  she  looked  at  them,  heard  them, 
felt  them,  but  she  neither  analyzed  nor  classified  them 
in  any  but  the  most  obvious  way. 

Larned's  visit  had  strongly  confirmed  her  liking  for 
him.  She  felt  safe  with  him  because  he  appeared  to 
understand  just  what  she  wanted.  She  seemed  to  have  no 
conscious  desire  to  make  an  impression  of  any  kind 
upon  him.  What  she  wanted  was  to  be  with  him  and 
that  was  all.  He  filled  her  horizon  completely. 

When,  in  speaking  of  his  visit  to  Susan,  that  young 
woman  had  made  a  pointed  remark  which  intimated 
that  here  was  a  new  suitor  to  take  the  place  of  the 
old,  Asenath  actually  felt  a  sense  of  shock.  She  had  not 

213 


214  THE    CHOICE 

dreamed  of  it.  That  she  should  ever  even  fancy  that  so 
wonderful  a  person  as  Larned  might  look  upon  her  in 
this  way  seemed  incredible. 

She  had  no  standard  by  which  to  measure  his  intel- 
lectual gifts.  In  fact,  they  seemed  to  her  to  be  immeasur- 
able. She  admired  his  intellect  vaguely;  she  was  sure 
that  his  learning  was  immense;  but  what  made  her 
happy  in  the  mere  thought  of  him  was  not  admiration, 
but  that  he  awoke  in  her  a  quality  of  emotion  which 
hitherto  she  had  never  known,  the  joy  of  which  was  so 
great  and  so  thrilling  as  to  be  almost  painful.  Many 
times  between  his  first  visit  and  the  appointment  of  the 
second  she  wondered  how  soon  he  would  come  again. 
And  her  wondering  was  a  yearning  for  him,  a  desire  to 
be  with  him  so  strong  that  there  was  no  mistaking  it. 
After  the  appointment  was  made,  she  counted  the 
intervening  hours. 

There  had  been  quite  a  heavy  snowfall  on  that  Tues- 
day afternoon,  which  contributed  greatly  to  Larned 's 
joy  in  living.  He  could  not  account  for  it,  but  he  loved 
the  snow.  He  recognized  the  strength  of  the  points  that 
his  father  was  able  to  make  against  it  in  their  jocular 
arguments  on  the  subject,  but  retorted  always  that,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  he  could  not  justify  his  enjoyment 
of  the  snow  by  reason,  he  still  liked  it.  So,  this  evening 
he  trudged  the  nearly  two  miles  that  separated  his  home 
from  Asenath's  through  a  covering  of  snow  which  was 
six  inches  thick  in  many  places.  He  reached  McBrides' 


THE    CHOICE  215 

in  a  high  state  of  physical  exhilaration,  not  in  the  least 
fatigued  by  his  exertion,  and  in  the  best  humor  possible. 

Asenath  promptly  responded  to  his  high  spirits,  and, 
as  was  usual  with  her  when  in  his  company,  was  almost 
talkative.  Larned  jested  with  her,  paid  her  mock  com- 
pliments, made  fun  of  himself,  and  she,  reacting  to  his 
humor  rather  than  understanding  it,  was  transported 
with  delight. 

Presently  she  said : 

"You  promised  to  bring  me  a  book.  Did  you  forget 
it?" 

"  By  no  means,"  he  answered.  "  It's  in  my  coat  pocket. 
I'll  get  it."  He  went  into  the  hall  and  returned  almost 
immediately  with  the  book  in  his  hand. 

"Shall  I  read  to  you?"  he  inquired. 

"Oh!  Yes,"  she  answered  with  fervor. 

He  began  the  simple  story  with  some  doubt  in  his 
mind.  He  was  afraid  that,  after  all,  he  may  have  under- 
rated her  literary  taste.  The  story  was  simply  childish. 
At  home  he  had  read  through  enough  of  it  in  half  an 
hour  to  learn  the  character  of  its  contents.  He  had  been 
moved  to  recommend  it  to  Asenath  because  he  had  heard 
it  discussed  by  some  very  young  girls.  They  had  pro- 
nounced it  "lovely." 

He  read  well,  making  the  most  of  the  material  in 
hand,  and,  as  he  glanced  up  from  time  to  time,  he  saw 
that  Asenath' s  whole  attention  was  fixed  and  that  she 
was  enjoying  both  the  story  and  the  characterization  to 


216  THECHOICE 

the  full.  Then  he  knew  that  he  had  chosen  wisely,  and  he 
believed  that  he  had  hit  upon  the  path  which  would 
eventually  lead  her  out  on  the  high  road  of  literary 
appreciation. 

"How  do  you  like  it?"  he  asked  when  he  ceased 
reading. 

"I  love  it,"  said  Asenath  with  enthusiasm.  "Isn't  it 
funny?" 

"  It's  very  fine,"  he  said.  "  It  isn't  exactly  true  to  life, 
but  then  it  seems  to  be  true  to  certain  ideals  that  many 
people  have.  You  know  what  I  mean,  don't  you?" 

Asenath  would  have  given  much  to  be  able  to  say  that 
she  did  know,  but  she  did  not  and  she  said  so.  Never 
before  had  she  felt  that  she  was  lacking  in  any  respect. 
The  people  whom  she  had  met  hitherto,  while  they  had 
not  given  her  any  sense  of  superiority,  had  not,  on  the 
other  hand,  made  her  feel  inferior.  She  had  always  felt 
that  what  she  did  not  know  was  not  worth  knowing. 
But  this  man  was  different.  With  him,  she  was  conscious 
of  an  intense  desire  to  respond  to  his  every  mood,  to  be 
everything  that  he  might  wish  her. 

"What  I  mean  is  this,"  he  went  on.  "Suppose  all  your 
life,  whenever  you  ate  a  cherry,  you  had  been  told  that 
it  was  a  strawberry.  You  would  naturally  think  all  cher- 
ries were  strawberries,  wouldn't  you?" 

"Yes,"  said  Asenath,  wondering  what  possible  con- 
nection this  could  have  with  the  book  they  had  just 
been  reading. 


THE    CHOICE  217 

"Well,  then,"  he  continued,  "if  you  were  given  a 
strawberry  and  told  it  was  a  strawberry,  you  wouldn't 
believe  it,  would  you?" 

"No,"  said  Asenath,  more  mystified  than  ever. 

"You  would  eat  it  and  enjoy  it.  You  would  recognize 
that  it  was  some  kind  of  fruit.  You  might  even  be  willing 
to  admit,  just  to  avoid  an  argument,  that  it  was  a  straw- 
berry, but  all  the  time  you'd  say  to  yourself,  'They  may 
think  this  is  a  strawberry,  maybe  it  is  some  kind  of 
strawberry,  but  I  know  what  a  real  strawberry  is.' 
And  what  you'd  think  was  the  real  strawberry  would 
actually  be  a  cherry.  Now,  what  I'm  getting  at  is  this: 
People  go  on  living  their  ordinary  lives  every  day.  They 
get  so  accustomed  to  doing  everyday  things  that  they 
don't  think  about  them  except  as  parts  of  themselves. 
You  see  your  hands,  but  you  don't  think  of  what  won- 
derful things  they  are,  what  enormous  capabilities  they 
have.  You  get  out  of  bed  every  morning.  You  know  it, 
but  it's  so  usual  a  thing  that  you  don't  think  of  it. 
That's  the  way  with  all  of  the  things  we  do,  with  all  of 
our  lives.  So,  when  we  think  of  Me  or  adventure,  it  seems 
to  us  that  we  must  have  something  unusual,  something 
different  from  what  we  do  every  day.  And  to  satisfy 
this  demand,  we  are  given  fanciful  pictures  of  life  in 
books,  in  plays  and  in  the  movies.  And  we  think  that 
these  fanciful  pictures,  these  cherries,  to  go  back  to  my 
illustration,  really  depict  life  and  are  the  real  straw- 
berries. Do  you  see?" 


218  THECHOICE 

"Yes,"  said  Asenath,  with  her  lips  only.  She  was  quite 
bewildered.  The  words  were  plain,  their  meaning  was 
evident,  but  she  could  not  understand  it  as  a  whole. 

Larned  saw  that  he  had  not  succeeded  in  making  the 
matter  plain  to  her.  He  said: 

"  I'm  afraid  I  haven't  explained  it  very  well.  Tell  me 
what  you  don't  understand." 

"I  don't  see  what  strawberries  and  cherries — "  and 
there  she  stuck.  She  could  not  utter  another  word.  A 
flush  spread  over  her  face,  a  mute,  but  eloquent,  testi- 
mony of  her  confusion  and  embarrassment.  Larned  per- 
ceived it  and  felt  guilty.  .He  was  conscious  of  a  great 
feeling  of  tenderness  towards  this  girl.  He  wanted  to 
soothe  her,  comfort  her. 

"Oh!  Let's  talk  about  something  else  more  interesting. 
There's  no  use  in  picking  things  apart  like  that  after 
all.  Do  you  like  snowy  weather?  " 

His  tone,  even  more  than  his  words,  quite  reassured 
Asenatih. 

She  answered  quickly: 

"I  just  love  it." 

"How  would  you  like  to  put  on  your  things  and  go 
out  for  a  short  walk?" 

"Fine,"  she  answered.  "I'll  get  my  coat  and  hat  and 
rubbers.  I'll  only  be  a  minute." 

She  returned  in  only  a  little  more  time  than  she  had 
said  and  they  went  out.  It  had  stopped  snowing  and  the 
sky  had  cleared.  Tramping  in  the  snow  was  delicious  to 


THE    CHOICE  219 

both  of  them.  Giving  themselves  up  to  the  exuberance  of 
their  spirits,  they  joked  and  laughed  at  everything  they 
had  in  common.  It  was  a  most  delightful  half  hour  for 
both  of  them.  When  they  returned  to  McBrides',  Lamed 
did  not  go  in  but  stood  on  the  step  for  a  few  minutes 
chatting.  He  was  just  about  to  go  after  arranging  to  call 
again  on  the  following  Tuesday  evening,  when  McBride 
came  up.  Asenath  introduced  the  two  men.  McBride 
was  not  unfavorably  impressed  by  Lamed. 

"I've  met  your  father,"  he  said.  "He's  a  fine  man, 
square  as  they  make  'em.  I  don't  suppose  he'd  remember 
me  though." 

"He's  all  you  say,  Mr.  McBride.  I'll  ask  him  if 
he  remembers  you.  Your  daughter  says  that  your 
concern  does  business  with  him." 

"Yes,  for  many  a  year.  And  it's  a  pleasure  to  work 
for  a  concern  like  that." 

"Well,  good-night,"  said  Lamed  as  he  went  off. 

"Good-night,"  said  the  others  and  went  into  the  house. 

"He  seems  a  fine  young  man,"  said  McBride  when  the 
door  was  closed .  "Did  you  find  out  what  church  he  goes  to?" 

"They're  Unitarians,"  said  Asenath. 

"Unitarians,  hm.  I  don't  think  much  of  that  church. 
They're  as  bad  as  Episcopalians,  not  that  there 
ain't  good  people  in  all  religions.  Maybe  you  could 
get  him  to  come  to  our  church." 

"I'll  ask  him,"  said  Asenath  doubtingly.  She  was 
delighted  that  her  father  approved  of  Lamed. 


220  THE    CHOICE 

Their  walk  in  the  snow  had  made  a  glorious  ending 
to  what  had  been  the  happiest  evening  she  had  ever 
spent.  As  she  slowly  undressed  she  took  an  infinite 
delight  in  remembering  what  he  had  said  to  her  and 
how  he  had  looked  when  he  said  it.  Then  she  thought 
of  the  whole  week  which  must  elapse  before  he  would 
come  again.  It  seemed  an  endless  vista  of  empty 
evenings.  The  days,  except  Sunday,  were  not  so  bad, 
because  she  was  occupied  and  her  work  was  a  pleasure 
to  her.  Oh!  If  she  could  see  him  every  evening,  if  only 
for  a  few  minutes.  Suddenly  she  thought  of  her  failure 
to  understand  his  explanation  of  the  cherries  and 
strawberries,  for  that  was  the  way  she  remembered  it, 
and  was  filled  with  apprehension.  He  must  think  her 
awfully  dumb.  No,  not  dumb,  stupid.  And  the  mere 
correction  of  this  word  gave  her  hope.  She  would 
learn  from  him.  He  would  teach  her.  She  would  be 
worthy  of  his  society.  And  in  pursuance  of  this  idea, 
she  took  up  "Mrs.  Wiggs  of  the  Cabbage  Patch"  and 
began  to  read  where  he  had  left  off. 

She  read  very  slowly,  but  with  such  great  interest 
that  she  continued  until  long  after  her  usual  hour 
for  retiring.  Finally  she  fell  asleep,  sitting  in  her  rocking 
chair  with  the  book  in  her  hand.  She  slept  thus  for 
about  an  hour  and  then  awoke,  much  surprised  to 
learn  what  had  happened  to  her.  She  finished  her 
arrangements  for  the  night  and  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

C NED'S  recognition  of  Asenath's  mental  limita- 
tions might  have  chilled  his  interest  in  her 
were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  that  interest  was 
founded  in  no  way  upon  that  part  of  her  personality. 
Her  attraction  for  him  was  so  certain  that  he  could 
not  help  taking  a  most  lenient  view  of  her  failure  to 
understand  his  attempted  explanation  of  the  view  of 
life  offered  by  some  writers  of  fiction.  He  began  by 
admitting  that  it  was  a  very  poor  explanation  at  best, 
and  that  it  was  scarcely  fair  to  expect  so  inexperienced 
a  girl  to  grasp  immediately  an  idea  which,  after  all, 
was  shared  by  very  few  people. 

When  he  had  dismissed  this  doubt  of  her  intelligence, 
he  was  at  liberty  to  think  of  other  things,  of  which 
he  had  plenty,  and  in  the  main  he  thought  very  little 
of  Asenath  during  the  following  week.  Every  now  and 
then  she  came  into  his  mind,  and  he  looked  forward 
to  his  coming  visit  to  her  with  pleasure. 

Asenath  opened  the  door  for  him  on  the  following 
Tuesday.  She  had  been  waiting  for  his  ring  for  nearly 
a  quarter  of  an  hour.  The  pleasure  she  expressed  in 
her  salutation  added  much  to  the  charm  of  her  appear- 
ance, and,  as  he  took  her  hand,  he  was  sensible  of  a 
sudden  thrill  at  the  contact  of  her  smooth  skin  in  his 

221 


222  THE    CHOICE 

fingers.  Pleasant  as  he  found  it,  he  relinquished  her 
hand  almost  immediately. 

When  they  were  seated  in  the  parlor,  he  asked  her 
how  she  had  spent  the  week. 

"I  finished  'Mrs.  Wiggs',"  she  said.  "Do  you  mind?" 

"Of  course  not.  What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"I  think  it's  just  sweet.  Isn't  it  fine  how  Robert  and 
Lucy  come  together  again  just  through  the  Wiggses?" 

"Did  you  like  that  part  best?" 

"I  liked  it  all.  I  didn't  expect  to  read  much  of  it 
at  first.  I  thought  I'd  wait  for  you  to  read  it  to  me, 
but  I  just  couldn't  wait.  It  was  so  interesting." 

"Well,  I've  brought  you  another  book,  'Rebecca  of 
Sunny  Brook  Farm/  I  think  you'll  like  that,  too.  Shall 
I  read  a  little  of  it  to  you?" 

"Oh!  Yes.  Please." 

He  read  for  half  an  hour.  She  was  intensely  interested 
and  was  sorry  when  he  stopped  with  the  remark: 

"Now,  let's  talk.  You  can  finish  the  book  yourself." 

"All  right,  but  it's  much  nicer  when  you  read  to  me." 

Lamed  made  no  doubt  of  his  ability  to  interest  her 
in  better  literature  than  this.  He  was  greatly  pleased 
with  himself  for  having  hit  the  right  note.  He  was 
moved  to  learn  whether  she  had  any  particular  ambition 
in  life  and  asked  her  if  she  ever  thought  of  what  she 
would  like  to  be  when  she  was  twenty-five. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered. 

"Have  you  never  thought  about  it  at  all?" 


THE    CHOICE  223 

"No." 

"You  expect  to  be  married,  don't  you?" 

This  brought  a  sudden  memory  of  her  broken  engage- 
ment. 

"When  I  was  engaged  to  Jim,  sometimes  I  used  to 
think  about  what  we'd  do  when  we  were  married." 

"What  did  you  think  you  would  do?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  thought  we'd  have  a  nice  house, 
and  go  out  to  parties,  and  dances  and — ,"  she  paused, 
wondering  what  Lamed  thought  of  such  amusements. 

"And  the  theatre?"  he  put  in. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Asenath,  "I've  never  been  to  a 
theatre,  except  movies." 

"How's  that?" 

"Papa  never  would  let  me  go.  He  thinks  they're 
wicked  places.  Are  they?" 

"I  don't  think  so." 

"He  doesn't  know  I've  ever  danced.  He  thinks 
that's  wicked,  too.  Do  you?" 

"No,  I  think  it's  a  bore." 

"Do  you?"  said  Asenath  with  great  surprise.  "I 
think  it's  lovely.  Have  you  ever  tried  it?" 

"No,"  said  Lamed.  "It's  always  seemed  a  silly  thing 
to  do;  I've  never  had  any  time  for  it." 

"I'm  sure  you'd  just  love  it.  I  wish  you'd  try  it." 

Larned  was  surprised  to  find  that  he  rather  wanted 
to  learn  to  dance,  now  that  she  had  asked  him.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  it  might  be  nice  to  dance  with  her. 


224  THE    CHOICE 

As  he  was  on  his  way  home,  he  tried  again  to  deter- 
mine why  he  found  so  much  pleasure  in  her  society. 
He  marshaled  all  of  her  attractions:  her  beauty,  her 
ingenuousness,  her  pleasant  voice,  her  obvious  liking 
and  admiration  for  him.  But  they  were  not  enough,  he 
felt,  to  account  for  the  delight,  it  is  not  too  strong  a 
word,  which  he  experienced  when  with  her.  "Oh! 
What's  the  use?"  he  said  to  himself.  "I  like  seeing  her 
and  it  certainly  doesn't  harm  either  of  us,  so  I'll  just 
go  on  until  I'm  tired  of  it."  This  last  aspect  of  the 
matter  was  based  on  his  previous  experience  with 
every  girl  who  had  interested  him  thus  far. 

One  day  in  the  week  that  followed,  he  had  a  sudden 
idea.  Asenath's  remarks  about  dancing  came  back  to 
him  as  his  eye  happened  to  rest  on  an  advertisement  of 
private  dancing  lessons.  He  would  take  some  lessons 
without  mentioning  the  matter  to  anyone.  He  would 
probably  never  make  use  of  his  ability,  were  he  to 
acquire  it,  but  it  would  be  better  to  refuse  to  dance 
because  he  had  tried  it  and  did  not  care  for  it,  than  to 
be  compelled  to  refuse  because  he  wasn't  able. 

He  took  a  few  lessons,  found  it  easy  to  learn,  and, 
besides,  quite  enjoyable.  He  was  almost  vexed  with 
himself  at  first  for  taking  pleasure  in  a  thing  he  had 
rather  despised,  but  this  did  not  last  long. 

His  visits  to  Asenath  on  Tuesday  evenings  had 
become  a  regular  function  to  which  he  looked  forward 
with  increasing  eagerness.  He  brought  her  a  new  book 


THE    CHOICE  225 

nearly  every  week,  gradually  increasing  the  quality. 
It  was  a  wonderful  new  world  to  her.  She  was  often 
impatient  during  the  day  for  the  evening  to  come  so 
that  she  might  take  up  the  story  which  she  happened 
to  be  reading  where  she  had  left  it. 

She  learned  much  from  her  reading  without  having 
any  such  intention.  Larned  had  told  her  to  write  down 
the  words  she  did  not  understand  and  show  them  to 
him.  He  defined  them  as  well  as  he  was  able  and,  one 
evening,  brought  her  a  small  dictionary  and  showed 
her  how  to  use  it.  Asenath's  vocabulary  was  thus 
improved,  but  it  was  bettered  also  by  her  unconscious 
adoption  of  many  of  Larned's  expressions.  When  she 
read,  she  did  as  children  do;  she  read  with  her  lips 
and  mentally  pronounced  each  word.  In  this  way  she 
acquired  many  new  expressions  with  which,  at  first, 
she  much  surprised  Larned. 

Not  only  did  she  learn  words  and  their  use,  she 
learned  much  about  life  in  general  which  she  had  never 
even  suspected.  There  was  a  great  deal  in  her  reading 
which  she  did  not  understand,  but  Larned,  who  had  a 
considerable  strain  of  the  teacher  in  him,  had  brought 
her  to  ask  him  for  an  explanation  of  anything  which 
was  not  clear  to  her,  and  this  gave  an  added  zest  to 
their  weekly  meetings. 

One  evening,  in  the  early  spring,  while  it  was  still 
quite  cool,  he  had  proposed  a  walk.  Asenath  complied 
at  once  and  they  turned  their  steps  towards  the  centre 


226  THE    CHOICE 

of  the  city.  They  were  discussing,  that  is,  Larned  was 
discussing,  some  book  which  she  had  just  finished  and 
both  of  them  were  so  much  interested  that  they  took 
no  account  of  the  distance  they  went.  Suddenly, 
Larned  noticed  that  they  were  in  the  centre  of  the  dis- 
trict in  which  the  principal  hotels  were  located  and 
were  immediately  in  front  of  one  of  the  popular  cafes 
of  the  better  class.  He  asked  her: 

"How  would  you  like  to  stop  in  here  and  have  a 
bite  to  eat.  I'm  hungry." 

"All  right,"  said  Asenath,  delighted,  "if  you  don't 
mind  my  not  being  dressed." 

"You're  better  dressed  than  most  of  the  people  you'll 
see  in  there,"  he  said. 

They  went  in  and  took  seats  in  the  nearly  empty 
cafe.  It  was  not  quite  ten  o'clock.  The  waiter  came  and 
took  their  order.  Larned  went  on  with  his  talk,  but 
Asenath's  attention  was  not  what  it  had  been  before. 
Her  eyes  were  busy,  for  there  was  much  to  attract 
them.  She  took  in  the  costumes  above  all,  but  nothing 
much  escaped  her. 

The  waiter  came  presently  with  the  food  they  had 
ordered,  and,  as  he  left  them  after  serving  it,  Asenath 
noticed  the  musicians  taking  their  places.  Shortly  after, 
the  music  was  heard  and  a  few  couples  began  to  dance- 

"Oh!"  said  Asenath,  "I  wish—" 

"What  do  you  wish?" 

"Oh!  It's  nothing — nothing  of  any  consequence." 


THECHOICE  227 

"I  wish  you'd  tell  me,"  he  pleaded. 

"I'd  much  rather  not." 

"Please  do,"  he  insisted. 

"Well,  I  was  going  to  say  that  I  wished  you  cared 
for  dancing." 

"Would  you  like  to  dance  with  me?" 

"Very  much,  but  you  don't  care  for  it  and,  besides, 
you  don't  know  how." 

"Would  you  be  willing  to  try  it  with  me?" 

"  Right  here,  before  everybody?  " 

"Yes,  right  here.  Are  you  game?" 

"Sure,"  and  she  got  up  from  her  chair.  Lamed  did 
likewise  and  presently  they  were  dancing. 

Asenath  was  completely  surprised.  She  thought  it 
wonderful.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Lamed  was  already  a 
fair  dancer,  and  with  Asenath,  to  whom  the  exericse  was 
almost  like  second  nature,  it  was  easy  to  dance  well. 
She  was  perfectly  happy.  And  he — he  learned  that  to 
have  Asenath  in  his  arms  was  the  most  delicious  sensa- 
tion he  had  ever  known. 

"Tell  me,  Harold,  when  did  you  learn  to  dance?" 
she  asked.  They  had  agreed  a  few  weeks  before  to 
address  each  other  by  their  Christian  names,  but  Asenath 
had  not  completely  acquired  the  habit.  She  always 
thought  of  him  as  Harold,  but,  generally,  when  she  was 
with  him,  she  avoided  the  use  of  his  name. 

"You're  teaching  me  now.  Anybody  could  dance  with 
you." 


228  THE    CHOICE 

"Honest,  when  did  you  learn?" 

"  I  told  you.  I'm  learning  now.  How  am  I  getting  along?  " 

"Please  don't  kid  me.  Tell  me  when  you  learned." 

"  It's  a  long  story,  girl.  Some  day  we'll  take  a  week 
off  and  111  tell  it  to  you." 

They  danced  a  couple  of  times  and  then  they  went 
home.  On  the  way  Larned  told  her  of  his  having  taken 
a  few  lessons  shortly  after  they  had  talked  of  it.  He  was 
very  gay,  and  very  happy,  and  he  ornamented  the 
account  with  every  kind  of  folly  that  occurred  to  him. 
Asenath  was  supremely  happy,  for  she  was  sure  that  he 
had  learned  to  dance  simply  to  please  her. 

When  he  had  finished,  she  said :  "  You  dance  wonder- 
fully. I'm  so  glad  you've  learned.  Don't  you  just  love  it?  " 

"I'll  have  to  admit  that  I  was  an  awful  ass  about  it. 
It's  real  good  fun,  provided — "  He  stopped,  which  was 
quite  unusual  with  him.  This  time  it  was  because  he 
was  about  to  say  that  it  was  good  fun  provided  he  might 
dance  with  her.  He  did  not  want  to  say  it  because  it 
was  too  true.  He  felt  that  the  pleasure  was  not  mere 
dancing,  but  dancing  with  her. 

Asenath  took  him  up.  She  said:  "Provided  what?" 

"Oh!  Provided  one's  in  the  humor." 

"I  want  to  ask  you  a  question,"  she  said. 

"Shoot." 

"Father,"  she  no  longer  said  "papa,"  "asked  me  to 
ask  you  if  you  wouldn't  like  to  come  to  our  church  next 
Sunday  evening." 


THECHOICE  229 

"That's  easy.  I  would— not." 

"He'll  be  terribly  disappointed.  There's  going  to  be 
some  special  music." 

"Anything  that's  any  good?  " 

"Oh!  Yes.  We  have  some  real  good  music  at  our 
church.  The  only  trouble  is  Mr.  Harmon,  our  minister, 
don't  ever  seem  able  to  get  off  a  short  sermon." 

"Is  he  a  good  talker?" 

"Everybody  says  so." 

"What  do  you  think?" 

"I  never  listen  to  him.  I  just  sit  and  think  about 
other  things." 

"And  size  up  the  women's  dresses,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  I  do  that,  too.  Usually  there  ain't  much  to  size 
up  though.  Will  you  come?" 

"Would  you  very  much  like  me  to?" 

"Yes.  If  you  think  you  won't  mind  it  too  much." 

"All  right,  I'll  come.  Tell  your  father  that  you'll 
lead  the  lamb  to  the  slaughter." 

When  Larned  was  on  his  way  home  that  night,  he 
felt  so  happy  that  he  seemed  to  be  treading  on  air. 
"What's  got  into  me?"  he  asked  himself.  "I've  never 
done  anything  like  this  before.  Am  I  getting  to  be  weak- 
minded?  Oh!  Well!  What's  the  use  of  philosophizing 
over  my  sad  state.  I  enjoy  being  with  her  and  that's  all 
there  is  to  it.  But  all  the  same,  she's  the  loveliest  little 
girl  I've  ever  met." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

ENTED  had  not  attended  a  Sunday  evening  service 
for  quite  a  long  time.  His  recollection  of  the 
last  was  indistinct,  except  on  one  point  and  that 
was  that  he  had  been  fearfully  bored.  In  spite  of  this, 
however,  he  looked  forward  to  accompanying  Asenath 
on  the  coming  Sunday  with  a  certain  amount  of  interest, 
not  a  small  part  of  which  was  curiosity  as  to  her  actual 
mental  attitude  toward  the  services. 

Asenath  had  expected  that  he  would  call  for  her  on 
Sunday  evening,  although  no  definite  arrangement  had 
been  made.  When  the  time  came  for  the  McBrides  to 
go  to  church,  she  accompanied  her  father  and  mother, 
although  she  would  have  preferred  waiting  for  Larned. 
However,  McBride  would  not  hear  of  her  waiting.  Going 
to  church  with  him  was  like  the  time  and  tide,  which  are 
reputed  to  wait  for  no  man.  Asenath  was  quite  upset,  but 
did  not  venture  to  show  her  feeling  to  her  father. 

As  they  approached  the  church,  she  was  delighted  to 
see  Larned  waiting  on  the  steps.  McBride  was  quite  as 
much  pleased,  although  his  feeling  had  an  entirely  dif- 
ferent basis.  With  him  it  was  pride  in  his  church,  the 
zeal  of  the  missionary.  With  her  it  was  the  joy  of  being 
with  Larned,  the  pride  in  being  accompanied  publicly  by 
so  seemly  a  man. 

Salutations  over,  they  seated  themselves  in  the 
McBride  pew.  Larned  was  conscious  that  his  entrance 

230 


THE    CHOICE  231 

with  Asenath  was  a  subject  of  interest  to  many  of  the 
congregation,  but  particularly  to  the  younger  element. 
He  was  somewhat  amused,  but  Asenath,  who  was  also 
well  aware  of  the  curiosity  which  Larned's  coming  with 
her  had  excited,  was  distinctly  gratified.  To  her  it 
seemed  that  whatever  stigma  Rawlings'  defection  had 
cast  upon  her  was  removed. 

A  few  minutes  after  they  were  seated,  the  organ  was 
heard  beginning  the  first  movement  of  Mendelssohn's 
"Hymn  of  Praise."  It  was  well  played  on  a  fair  instru- 
ment and  Lamed  enjoyed  it  thoroughly.  He  remarked 
Asenath's  complete  absorption  in  the  music  and  was 
somewhat  surprised  at  it,  for  they  had  never  discussed 
the  subject  of  music  at  all,  he  having  taken  it  for  granted 
that  she  had  no  interest  in  it.  He  determined  to  speak 
to  her  about  it. 

In  the  anthem  which  followed,  a  standard  work  which 
the  choir  executed  fairly  well,  her  interest  was  also 
marked,  but  the  subsequent  hymn  in  which  the  congre- 
gation joined  lustily,  even  if  with  considerable  uncer- 
tainty as  to  pitch,  seemed  both  to  annoy  and  amuse  her. 
At  a  favorable  moment,  she  whispered  to  him: 

"Ain't  it  awful?" 

The  short  prayer,  which  came  next,  was  of  the  usual 
order.  Asenath,  he  was  sure,  had  no  thought  for  either 
the  words  or  their  meaning.  This  was  also  true  of  her 
mental  attitude  towards  the  Scripture  reading.  All  of 
this,  including  the  explanation,  was  of  the  regular  kind. 


232  THE    CHOICE 

It  seemed  to  Lamed  that  the  majority  of  the  congrega- 
tion simply  offered  their  physical  presence  as  a  mark  of 
their  devotion  and  went  no  further. 

Then  came  the  long  prayer  and  the  collection.  The 
latter  offered  an  opportunity  for  a  few  whispered  remarks 
between  Asenath  and  Larned  regarding  the  anthem 
about  to  be  sung. 

Any  musical  enjoyment  which  came  to  Larned  from 
the  anthem  was  offset  by  the  hymn  that  followed,  in 
which  the  congregation  again  showed  its  utter  disregard 
of  the  pitch. 

To  Larned,  the  sermon,  on  a  text  from  the  Scripture 
reading,  was  a  beautiful  illustration  of  sheer  verbosity. 
Everything  in  it  which  was  not  hackneyed  was  inappro- 
priate. 

It  was  an  extemporaneous  affair  and  showed  it  plainly. 
Nearly  two-thirds  of  it  was  devoted  to  dividing  the 
matter  into  various  heads,  and  almost  all  of  the  balance 
to  subjects  foreign  to  the  thread  of  the  discourse,  and 
the  very  last  part  of  it  to  an  assumption  that  the  pre- 
vious statements  had  been  proved.  It  was  full  of  impos- 
ing expressions,  all  of  them  wearing  the  mark  of  age- 
long use.  It  was  illogical,  intemperate  and,  to  Larned, 
ignorant. 

What  interested  him  was  the  congregation.  Those  who 
listened  seemed  to  be  caught  by  the  sound  of  the  phrases; 
there  was  no  indication  to  him  that  the  subject  itself  was 
brought  home  to  them.  But  the  majority  of  them,  he  was 


THE    CHOICE  233 

sure,  were  not  even  listening.  They  simply  sat  there, 
accomplishing  their  devotion  by  their  physical  presence, 
as  he  had  felt  of  them  earlier  in  the  evening. 

It  was  a  tedious  half  hour  before  it  was  over.  There 
was  an  unmistakable  air  of  relief  throughout  the  church 
when  the  end  was  reached  and  the  singing  of  the  response 
by  the  choir,  a  sentimental  hymn,  was  really  music  to 
their  ears.  It  was  well  sung  and  offered  a  striking  con- 
trast to  the  congregation's  performance  of  the  hymn 
which  followed. 

The  benediction  lasted  only  a  minute  and  its  close 
was  the  sign  for  undisguised  satisfaction.  Some  went 
away  immediately,  but  a  considerable  number  broke 
up  into  groups  and  exchanged  news  and  opinions. 

Larned  heard  Asenath  say  softly: 

"Let's  duck." 

He  was  only  too  glad  to  obey  this  significant  request, 
and  hastily  bidding  good-night  to  the  McBrides  and 
thanking  them,  left  the  church  with  her. 

"What  did  you  think  of  it?"  she  asked. 

"  It  was  very  interesting." 

"Interesting?  How?" 

"  It  was  interesting  to  see  all  those  people  who  come 
there  week  after  week  and  go  through  that  same  per- 
formance without  thought,  without  any  real  devotion. 
I  wonder  what  the  minister  must  think,  if  he  really  can 
think,  of  the  actual  effect  of  his  work.  What's  your 
opinion?" 


234  THE    CHOICE 

"  I  don't  know.  I  never  thought  about  it." 

"What  did  you  think  of  the  sermon?" 

"  I  never  listen  to  them." 

"You  remember  the  text,  don't  you?" 

"No,  I  wasn't  paying  any  attention.  I  was  thinking 
of  something  else." 

"Did  you  pay  any  attention  to  the  prayers?" 

"No,  I've  heard  all  of  them  so  often.  They're  all  the 
same." 

"See  here,  Asenath,  hasn't  this  thing  any  meaning 
to  you  at  all?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  never  think  about  it." 

"Do  you  consider  yourself  a  believer,  a  Christian?" 

"Sure." 

"Do  you  believe  in  the  divinity  of  Christ,  in  the — ?" 

"Oh!  Harold.  Don't  let's  talk  about  all  that  stuff.  It's 
bad  enough  to  have  to  go  to  church  all  the  time,  without 
talking  about  it  when  you're  through  with  it." 

"All  right,  if  you'll  permit  one  more  remark  on  the 
subject." 

Asenath  looked  at  him  without  replying,  but  her 
expression  indicated  her  consent,  so  he  went  on: 

"  I  imagine  that  you're  about  as  much  of  a  Christian 
as  you  are  a  Buddhist  with  the  difference  that  you  go 
regularly  to  a  Christian  church.  Isn't  that  so?" 

"  I  guess  so,"  she  said  laughing,  "only  I  don't  know 
what  a  'Bud—'  what  did  you  call  it?" 

"A  Buddhist." 


THE    CHOICE  235 

" — What  a  Buddhist  is.  Only,  let's  talk  about  some- 
thing else.  How  did  you  like  the  music?  " 

"The  hymns?" 

"No,  the  anthems/' 

"  They  were  fine  and  they  were  well  done,  too.  Your 
organist  is  a  good  musician." 

"That's  the  part  I  love — the  music.  But  I  hate  the 
hymns — the  way  they're  sung.  Some  of  them  are  lovely, 
too.  Don't  you  love  this  one?"  and  she  began  to  sing  one 
of  the  hymns  that  they  had  heard  the  congregation  shout. 

"Yes,  it's  fine.  That's  a  theme  by  Haydn." 

"Who  was  he?" 

"A  composer  who  lived  about  a  hundred  or  more 
years  ago.  You're  very  fond  of  music,  aren't  you?" 

"I  just  love  it." 

"Do  you  ever  go  to  any  concerts?" 

"At  the  church.  And  Oh!  Jim  took  me  to  a  concert 
last  year.  It  was  wonderful.  I  wish  I  could  play.  But 
we  haven't  any  piano." 

"Maybe  you'll  have  one  some  day." 

"I  hope  so,"  she  said. 

They  walked  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes.  Larned 
was  the  first  to  speak: 

"Tell  me,"  he  said,  "why  did  you  want  me  to  go  to 
church  with  you  this  evening?" 

"Oh!  I  don't  know." 

"You  must  have  had  some  reason.  You  remember  you 
said  you  particularly  wanted  me  to  go." 


236  THE    CHOICE 

"I  know,  but—" 

"But  what?" 

"Father  was  very  anxious  to  have  me  bring  you." 

"What  for?" 

"I  don't  know  just  why." 

"You  must  have  some  idea." 

Asenath  was  embarrassed  and,  as  was  quite  usual, 
took  refuge  in  silence.  Lamed  waited  for  a  reply  and, 
when  he  was  assured  none  would  come,  said: 

"Do  you  suppose  he  would  like  to  convert  me?" 

This  was  too  pointed  a  question  for  Asenath  to 
answer  equivocally.  She  knew  that  that  was  exactly 
what  her  father  hoped  for  and  she  did  not  want  to 
admit  it.  She  could  think  of  no  way  of  evading  it, 
however. 

"I  guess  so,"  she  said. 

"Do  you  want  to  convert  me?" 

"No,  but  you  know — "  and  she  paused. 

"Why  don't  you  come  out  with  it?  I  won't  mind." 

"You  see  you're  a  Unitarian — " 

"No,  I'm  not." 

"Why  you  said  you  were." 

"No,  I  said  that  the  only  church  my  family  ever 
attended  was  a  Unitarian  church.  I  don't  go  to  any." 

"Father  would  think  that  was  even  worse." 

"What  does  it  matter  to  him  whether  I  go  to  church 
or  not?" 

"He's  just  cranky  about  it." 


THECHOICE  237 

"What  difference  does  it  make?" 

"Please  don't  ask  me." 

"But  I  want  to  know." 

"I  told  you  when  you  first  came  he  asked  me  all 
about  you." 

"Isn't  he  satisfied  yet?" 

"Yes,  but  he's  just  crazy  about  going  to  church  and 
all  that." 

"I  suppose  then  if  I  want  to  continue  calling  on 
you  I'll  have  to  join  your  church.  Is  that  it?" 

Asenath  was  becoming  frightened.  She  feared  if 
this  subject  were  carried  to  the  bitter  end  that  she 
might  lose  Larned's  companionship,  the  finest  thing 
which  had  ever  come  into  her  life.  She  was  desperate. 
Oh!  if  she  could  only  tell  him  what  his  friendship 
meant  to  her.  If  she  could  only  make  him  see  that 
nothing  must  come  between  them.  But  her  tongue 
was  tied.  She  could  not  tell  him.  All  she  could  say  was: 

"No.  Don't  mind  him.  I'll  never  bother  you  with 
going  to  church  again,  never.  Let's  talk  about  some- 
thing else." 

"But  I  want  to  know  whether  or  not  your  father 
objects  to  my  visiting  you.  Does  he?" 

Asenath  felt  that  something  must  be  done.  So  she 
did  the  magnificent  thing.  She  lied. 

"No,  he  don't." 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"Yes." 


238  THE    CHOICE 

"All  right  then." 

Asenath  had  not  been  compelled  to  make  a  complete 
misstatement.  McBride  had  not  forbidden  her  to 
receive  Larned.  That  would  have  been  final  as  far  as 
his  coming  to  the  house  was  concerned.  What  he  had 
done,  however,  had  been  to  speak  of  the  matter  several 
times  to  his  wife,  who  had  repeated  his  words  to 
Asenath  and  had  advised  her  to  induce  Larned  to  go 
to  church  with  them  from  time  to  time.  Mrs.  McBride 
feared  that  unless  this  were  done  McBride  would  make 
Larned 's  further  visits  impossible.  There  was  no  half 
way  with  McBride  in  church  matters. 

After  Larned  had  gone,  making  their  usual  appoint- 
ment for  the  following  Tuesday,  Asenath  resolved  that 
she  would  not  brook  opposition  in  this  matter  were  it 
offered.  She  would  fight  to  the  last. 

Larned  was  much  amused  by  McBride's  attitude. 
He  set  it  down  to  mere  narrow-mindedness.  He  won- 
dered how  so  lovely  a  girl,  one  with  so  many  possibilities, 
with  so  much  grace  and  charm,  could  ever  have  been 
born  into  such  a  family. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE  reason  for  Larned's  selection  of  Tuesday 
evening  for  his  visits  to  Asenath  was  not  mere 
accident.  He  had  chosen  it  because  it  was  one  of 
the  few  evenings  in  the  week  which  he  had  open. 
Every  Monday  and  Thursday  evening  he  devoted  to 
teaching  English  in  a  night  school  for  immigrants.  The 
work  was  purely  voluntary  and  it  made  a  strong  appeal 
to  Larned  because  he  believed  that  there  was  no  surer 
method  for  the  prompt  development  of  an  American 
civic  spirit  in  these  people  than  teaching  them  the 
language  of  the  country. 

Larned  had  not  been  entirely  wrong  in  his  first  choice 
of  a  profession.  He  was  naturally  a  teacher,  but  the 
teaching  methods  prescribed  in  the  high  school  ran 
counter  to  his  ideas.  He  felt  that  he  could  not  do  good 
work  within  the  strict  limitations  which  were  imposed 
upon  him  by  the  authorities  and  he  had  therefore 
resigned. 

But  he  really  loved  teaching,  and,  in  this  night 
school,  he  found  work  which  suited  him  exactly.  He 
was  allowed  to  make  his  own  rules  and  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  seeing  his  work  prosper. 

He  had  spoken  about  his  teaching  to  Asenath.  She 
was  interested  principally  because  it  was  Larned  who 
was  doing  the  work.  But  she  had  no  interest  whatever 

239 


240  THE    CHOICE 

in  immigrants.  To  her,  the  word  had  only  a  disagreeable 
connotation.  Foreigners  were  dirty,  unkempt,  un- 
desirable; they  seemed  a  lower  order,  something  to 
be  avoided  as  one  avoided  vermin.  However,  as  her 
friendship  with  Lamed  grew  and  her  understanding 
of  life  generally  underwent  some  improvement,  she 
gradually  came  to  have  a  more  sympathetic  interest  in 
the  work  that  Lamed  was  doing  and  actually  began 
to  take  some  little  pride  in  his  altruism. 

One  evening  in  April,  when  their  friendship  had  come 
to  be  a  settled  thing,  he  suggested  to  her  that  she  take 
a  class  of  very  young  girls,  factory  workers,  and  teach 
them. 

"What!  Me!"  she  cried  in  surprise. 

"Yes.  Why  not?" 

"But  I  couldn't  teach  anything." 

"You  could  teach  sewing,  couldn't  you?" 

"No,  I  wouldn't  know  how  to  start." 

"Suppose  I  asked  you  to  explain  how  this  dress  was 
made — you  could  tell  me,  couldn't  you?" 

"Of  course  I  could." 

"Well,  if  you  could  teach  me,  why  couldn't  you 
teach  some  girls  who  would  naturally  be  quicker  to 
understand  sewing  than  I  would?" 

"I  couldn't  do  it." 

"But  you  ought  to  do  it.  You  don't  make  any  special 
use  of  your  time.  Besides,  it  would  only  be  one  evening  a 
week." 


THE    CHOICE  241 

"Please  don't  ask  me.  I  can't  do  it." 

Lamed  was  becoming  rather  angry.  He  controlled 
himself,  however,  and  said,  without  any  evidence  of 
his  feeling  except  a  slight  quickening  of  his  speech: 

"But  you  haven't  given  me  any  reason." 

"Please  don't  ask  me,"  she  said  again.  She  was 
becoming  excited,  confused,  hurt.  The  thing  seemed 
monstrous  to  her.  She  would  have  willingly  assented 
to  almost  anything  that  Larned  might  ask.  She  would 
have  agreed,  in  advance  and  in  perfect  good  faith,  to 
do  anything  he  wished,  but  this  thing  was  impossible. 
She  felt  miserable,  ignoble,  unworthy,  but  what  he 
asked  her  she  felt  she  could  not  do.  It  was  like  asking 
her  to  cry  out  blasphemy  in  the  middle  of  the  church 
service. 

Larned  caught  the  expression  of  helpless  misery 
which  she  wore  and  desisted  from  pressing  her.  But  he 
was  angry.  He  felt  as  though  he  had  been  rebuffed.  He 
was  ready  to  call  her  selfish,  self-centred,  what  not. 
He  sat  in  silence  after  her  last  appeal,  too  angry  to 
speak  for  fear  that  he  might  say  something  which  he 
would  afterward  regret.  Asenath  was  silent,  too.  She 
would  have  given  anything  for  the  ability  to  explain 
herself,  but  it  was  beyond  her. 

After  as  much  as  one  minute — it  seemed  much 
longer — Larned  got  up  and  walked  over  and  looked  at 
a  picture  of  an  ancient  McBride,  a  "Crayon  portrait," 
as  such  retouched,  photographic  enlargements  are 


THE    CHOICE 

called.  He  wanted  to  go  away,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
he  was  not  willing  to  do  so  childish  a  thing.  Since  he 
had  decided  that  he  would  not  go  away  angry,  and  he 
was  still  too  much  perturbed  to  permit  himself  to  speak, 
he  gazed  at  the  ancient  McBride  and  wondered  what 
aesthetic  consideration  could  ever  have  moved  men 
to  wear  chin  beards  with  the  upper  lip  shaven. 

Asenath  watched  him  in  anguish.  She  was  convinced 
that  he  must  hold  her  in  contempt;  that  she  had  surely 
lost  his  friendship.  She  waited  as  a  guilty  criminal  about 
to  have  sentence  passed  upon  her.  If  she  could  only 
explain  why  she  could  not  do  as  he  wished.  If  the 
words  would  but  come.  But  they  would  not.  At  length, 
she  found  the  silence  intolerable  and,  getting  up,  she 
walked  over  to  him,  put  her  hand  lightly  on  his  arm, 
and  said: 

"I  guess  you  hate  me,  don't  you?" 

Her  touch,  light  as  it  was,  was  magically  potent,  but 
the  plaintive  misery  in  her  voice  was  even  more  so. 
Suddenly,  Larned  understood,  and  turning  to  her 
quickly,  laid  his  hand  on  hers,  and  said: 

"Hate  you?  I  should  say  not.  I  was  in  the  wrong,  not 
you.  Will  you  forgive  me?" 

"Forgive  you?  For  what?" 

"For  getting  angry.  I  was  a  fool." 

"Don't  say  that,  Harold,  please,"  and  then  the  words 
came.  "I  know  I'm  only  a  horrid,  selfish  thing.  I  know 
I  ought  to  try  to  do  a  little  for  those  poor  people  when 


THE    CHOICE  243 

you  do  so  much.  But  I  can't,  I  just  can't — "  and,  with- 
drawing her  hand  from  his,  she  threw  herself  in  a  chair 
and  gave  herself  up  to  tears. 

Larned  was  extremely  uncomfortable.  Like  practically 
every  other  man,  the  sight  of  women's  tears  moved 
him  strongly.  He  felt  that  he  must  have  been  cruelly 
unreasonable  to  have  occasioned  such  grief  as  this.  He 
was  filled  with  a  great  desire  to  assuage  it,  but  scarcely 
knew  how  to  begin. 

Fearfully  ashamed,  Asenath  was  gradually  regaining 
control  of  herself.  What  would  he  think  of  her?  Not 
only  was  she  selfish,  disobliging,  incompetent,  but  a 
miserable  cry-baby  as  well.  It  was  probably  all  over 
between  them,  and  it  served  her  right.  She  was  un- 
worthy. 

Larned  watched  her  without  speaking  until  she 
began  to  dry  her  eyes.  Then  he  thought  he  might  trust 
himself  to  speak  without  much  risk  of  producing 
another  outburst. 

"Asenath,"  he  said,  "please  forget  all  about  it.  I 
was  all  wrong,  insisting  like  that.  Please  put  it  out  of 
your  mind." 

"Oh!  Harold,"  she  said,  "what  must  you  think  of 
me?  The  first  thing  you  ever  asked  of  me,  and  then 
something  I  ought  to  be  glad  to  do,  and  I  refuse,  just 
because  I  know  I  can't  do  it,  because  I'm  too  dumb — 
stupid,  I  mean — "  she  stopped,  utterly  at  a  loss  to  find 
words  sufficiently  condemnatory. 


244  THE    CHOICE 

"Please,  Asenath,"  he  protested,  "don't  say  another 
word  on  that  subject.  Let's  go  out  for  a  walk." 

"Harold,"  she  went  on,  much  excited  and  scarcely 
heeding  his  words,  "I  thought  that  there  wasn't  any- 
thing that  I  couldn't  do  if  you  wanted  me  to  do  it. 
Why,  I  thought  that  just  because  you  would  want  me 
to  do  it  would  make  me  able  to  do  it.  Since  you've 
been  coming  to  see  me,  I've  thought  I  was  a  different 
girl  all  the  way  through,  and  now — " 

Lamed  took  her  by  the  arm,  and,  almost  lifting  her 
from  the  chair,  led  her  to  the  door. 

"Go  get  your  hat  and  coat,  we're  going  for  a  walk. 
Not  another  word,"  and  he  raised  his  finger  in  a  mock- 
dictatorial  manner. 

Asenath  did  as  she  was  bid.  When  they  were  on  the 
street,  Larned  said : 

"Now,  I  want  you  to  listen  to  me.  Not  everybody 
can  do  everything.  You  know  that.  Everybody  should 
know  it.  I  know  now  that  what  I  proposed  is  one  of 
those  things  that  runs  counter  to  something  in  your 
personality,  something  over  which  you  really  have  no 
control.  Now,  where  I  made  an  ass  of  myself  was  that 
I  did  not  see  this  at  first.  You  made  it  perfectly  plain, 
I  can  see  that  now.  I  was  wrong  and  you'll  have  to 
admit  it  and,  what's  more,  you'll  have  to  promise  not 
to  say  one  more  word  on  the  subject  except  that  you 
forgive  me." 

Larned 's  words  and  tone  completely  reassured  Asen- 


T  H  E    C  H  O  I  C  E  245 

ath  and  she  smiled  in  grateful  appreciation  as  she  said: 

"I  believe  I'd  forgive  you  anything,  but  there's 
nothing  to  forgive." 

"That  isn't  exactly  what  I  meant,  but  we'll  let  it 
pass." 

They  talked  of  other  things,  and  then  Lamed  took 
her  home.  He  did  not  go  in,  but  bade  her  good-night  a 
few  minutes  after  they  had  reached  her  door. 

He  walked  home  a  prey  to  most  unusual  emotion. 
He  was  sure  now  that  Asenath  not  only  liked  him  very 
much,  of  that  he  had  been  in  no  doubt  for  quite  some 
time,  but  it  was  perfectly  plain  that  she  was  completely 
devoted  to  him,  if  not  actually  in  love.  What  amazed 
him  beyond  measure  was  that  he  exulted  in  it,  was 
proud  and  happy.  Could  it  be  that  he  was  in  love  with 
her?  It  would  seem  so,  but  this  was  so  very  different 
from  anything  he  had  ever  imagined  that  it  must  be 
impossible.  He  knew,  had  known  for  many  weeks, 
that  she  charmed  him,  fascinated  him;  he  knew  that 
she  was  increasingly  present  in  his  thoughts;  that  he 
looked  forward  to  his  weekly  visits  with  the  liveliest 
expectation.  But  was  this  enough?  It  couldn't  be. 
There  were  too  many  things  which  claimed  him,  too 
many  subjects  in  which  he  took  an  active  interest,  for 
him  to  believe  that  he  was  in  love.  To  be  in  love  meant 
complete  absorption  in  the  loved  one,  and  that  was 
certainly  not  his  case.  He  was  very  fond  of  her,  there 
was  no  doubt,  and  maybe  this  very  fondness  prompted 


246  THECHOICE 

him  to  overestimate  her  liking  for  him.  At  any  rate, 
it  wouldn't  do  to  judge  too  hastily,  and  certainly  not 
when  she  was  so  much  agitated  as  she  was  tonight. 

If  he  thought  that  she  was  really  falling  in  love  with 
him,  he  argued,  it  would  be  his  duty  to  take  steps  to 
see  that  it  went  no  further.  It  would  never  do  to  lead 
her  on,  or  even  permit  her  to  go  on,  in  view  of  the  state 
of  his  own  feelings.  At  all  events,  he  would  observe 
her  closely  in  future  and  at  the  first  definite  sign,  he 
would  take  such  steps  as  seemed  to  him  suitable  under 
the  circumstances. 

But  he  could  not  down  a  certain  feeling  of  satisfac- 
tion that  she  had  shown  so  much  dependence  upon 
him,  that  she  owned  so  lively  a  desire  to  please  him. 
He  had  noted,  not  without  considerable  pride,  the 
improvement  in  her  speech,  the  widening  of  her  knowl- 
edge. He  felt  that  it  would  be  a  great  pity  to  leave 
her  where  she  now  stood,  just  when  she. was  about  to 
be  able  to  make  use  of  her  mind.  He  was  sure  that  the 
quality  of  her  mentality  was  excellent;  it  lacked  only 
training.  And  the  missionary  in  him,  and  who  is  entirely 
without  this  quality,  burned  with  the  desire  to  com- 
plete his  work,  to  help  fit  her  for  the  position  in  life 
which  her  tastes  and  aptitudes  undoubtedly  fitted  her. 
It  would  be  a  crime  to  allow  so  fair  a  flower  to  be 
stunted  for  lack  of  the  necessary  attention. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

DURING  the  summer,  their  weekly  meetings 
were  continued  with  occasional  interruptions. 
Larned  had  been  on  the  lookout,  on  his  first 
visit  after  that  in  which  Asenath  had  shown  so  much 
agitation,  for  any  symptom  which  might  confirm  his 
temporary  suspicion  that  she  was  falling  in  love  with 
him,  but  saw  none.  Asenath  was  gay,  cheerful,  and  quite 
mistress  of  herself.  She  was  perfectly  satisfied  to  go  on 
like  this  forever.  She  wanted  him  as  her  friend,  her 
mentor.  It  was  sufficient  joy  to  be  with  him  once  a  week. 
It  was  true  that  he  was  in  her  mind  constantly;  she  did 
nothing,  thought  of  nothing  that  did  not  take  him  into 
account.  "What  would  he  think  of  this?"  and  "Would 
he  approve  of  that?"  were  questions  which,  while  she 
never  formally  proposed  them  to  herself,  were  still 
always  present  in  her  consciousness. 

She  had  no  desire  to  go  out.  She  made  no  effort  to 
make  new  acquaintances  or  to  improve  the  few  she  had. 
She  saw  Susan  regularly  at  the  telephone  exchange,  they 
still  took  their  lunch  together,  but  there  was  no  longer 
the  same  degree  of  intimacy  between  them.  In  the  first 
place,  Susan  had  now  become  a  regular  member  of 
May  Wilson's  "gang,"  and  all  of  her  leisure  was  occu- 
pied in  various  enterprises  of  a  social  nature  which  these 
young  folks  were  constantly  arranging  and  putting  into 

247 


248  THE    CHOICE 

execution,  and,  in  the  second  place,  Asenath  had  never 
felt  willing  to  confide  in  her  any  further  details  of  her 
friendship  for  Larned  since  Susan  had  intimated  that  he 
might  be  Rawlings'  successor.  Asenath  could  not  have 
explained  her  reason  for  this  feeling.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
she  did  not  actually  have  any  reason  for  it;  she  simply 
did  not  want  to  do  it.  And  with  Asenath,  as  has  been 
observed,  when  she  did  not  want  to  talk,  she  knew  very 
well  how  to  keep  silent. 

She  was  going  to  her  uncle's  farm  for  the  one  week 
of  her  vacation.  She  asked  Susan  to  accompany  her,  but 
that  enterprising  young  woman  had  made  other 
arrangements  and  declined.  Asenath  was  very  glad  that 
the  week  she  was  in  the  country  fell  within  the  two  weeks 
that  Larned  would  be  away. 

When  Larned  took  leave  of  her  on  the  evening  of  his 
last  visit  before  his  vacation,  he  had  it  on  the  tip  of  his 
tongue  to  ask  her  to  write  to  him.  He  would  have  liked 
to  have  a  letter  from  her,  but  he  was  mindful  of  his 
resolution  to  keep  their  friendship  a  friendship  and  no 
more.  So  he  said  nothing. 

He  felt  some  regret  in  the  prospect  of  not  seeing  her 
for  three  weeks.  To  hide  it,  he  affected  more  than  his 
usual  gaiety  and  this  prevented  him  from  observing  the 
same  emotion  in  Asenath.  Besides,  she  was  not  accus- 
tomed to  wearing  her  heart  on  her  sleeve,  as  the  saying 
goes.  She  did  not  respond  to  his  humorous  sallies  with 
quite  her  usual  appreciation,  and  he  might  have  noticed 


THECHOICE  249 

this  and  coupled  it  with  a  sense  of  regret  on  her  part 
similar  to  his  own  had  he  not  been  so  bent  upon  con- 
cealing it. 

It  was  a  sultry  evening  in  early  August,  much  too 
hot  to  make  even  the  thought  of  any  exercise  bearable. 
So  they  sat  on  the  doorstep  and  chatted  about  their 
coming  vacations.  Asenath  had  not  much  to  say  about 
her  uncle's  farm.  It  was  an  old  story  with  her,  and  she 
looked  forward  to  her  visit  with  no  pleasure  except  the 
prospect  of  escape  from  the  heat  of  the  city.  Besides, 
Larned  had  been  there  and  he  knew  about  it.  The  one 
spot  that  meant  anything  to  her  she  forbore  mention- 
ing, the  brook  at  the  side  of  which  they  had  had  their 
first  merry  talk. 

Larned  was  going  to  the  mountains  where  his  parents 
were  spending  the  month  of  August.  He  was  enthusias- 
tic at  the  prospect  of  spending  two  idle  weeks  in  his 
father's  company. 

"You  ought  to  know  the  'old  boy,' "  as  he  called  him 
affectionately;  "he's  the  dearest  fellow  I  ever  met. 
We're  just  two  pals  together.  Not  a  bit  like  father  and 
son.  It's  much  more  like  two  friends  of  the  same  age. 
He's  interested  in  everything  I  do.  We  read  the  same 
books  and  discuss  them.  We  don't  always  agree,  but  in 
the  main  I  think  we  do.  You  must  meet  him  some  day." 

"  Do  you  think  he'd  like  me?  "  asked  Asenath.  She  was 
willing  to  take  Larned  senior  on  faith.  He  was  Harold's 
father.  That  was  enough. 


250  THE    CHOICE 

"I'm  sure  he  would.  In  the  first  place,  he's  got  a  pair 
of  eyes  in  his  head,  and  if  I  told  him  you  were  a  pretty 
fair  looker,  he  would  use  those  eyes  so  that  he  could  see 
in  you  what  I  told  him  was  there." 

"What  are  looks  good  for,  anyway?"  asked  Asenath. 

"That  depends.  In  your  case  they  might  mean  much 
or  little.  Now  if  you  were  a  good-looking  girl  instead  of 
a  homely  one,  I  could  tell  you  without  hurting  your 
feelings,  but  as  it  is,  delicacy  compels  silence.  What  do 
you  think?" 

"About  what?" 

"About  looks.  Do  you  think  they're  good  for  any- 
thing?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"I  do.  But  I  won't  tell  you." 

"Please,  Harold,  tell  me." 

"Never." 

"Please." 

"  You  want  me  to  tell  you  that  you're  beautiful,  don't 
you?" 

"No,  I  don't. 

"You'd  be  insulted  if  I  told  you,  wouldn't  you?" 

"Don't  be  crazy." 

"Yes,  I  will  and  I'm  going  to  insult  you.  You  are 
beautiful.  I  told  you  that  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  you 
and  I  stick  to  it.  They  may  shoot  me  at  sunrise,  but  I'll 
stick  to  it." 

This  was  delicious.  Not  merely  the  humor,  which 


THE    CHOICE  251 

Asenath  thought  wonderful,  but  the  homage  to  her 
beauty. 

Asenath  did  not  reply  to  his  compliment.  She  was 
always  delighted  to  hear  from  him  that  she  was  beauti- 
ful; it  gave  her  a  sense  of  comfort;  she  felt  like  a  cat  who 
is  enjoying  the  heat  of  a  grate-fire  in  winter.  She  would 
have  indulged  in  the  human  equivalent  of  purring  if 
there  were  such  a  thing.  Larned  had  told  her  this  a  num- 
ber of  times,  and  always  she  felt  that  she  ought  to  make 
some  denial,  if  only  partial,  but  she  never  did.  And  he 
liked  her  the  better  for  it.  He  would  have  taken  it  as 
affectation,  and  affectation  in  any  form  he  despised. 

"Oh!  Isn't  it  hot!"  said  Asenath.  "I  always  think  I 
like  summer  until  August,  and  then  I  hate  it  until 
winter  comes  again." 

"It  is  hot,"  he  answered,  "but  I  don't  mind  it  much. 
I  like  summer  because  I  dislike  overcoats  and  rubbers." 

"  I  like  it  for  one  thing,  I  don't  have  to  go  to  church." 

This  brought  up  an  unpleasant  memory  for  Asenath. 
There  had  been  some  more  talk  on  this  subject  by 
McBride.  He  had  been  disappointed  because  Larned 
had  not  made  any  remark  to  him  after  his  attendance  at 
the  Sunday  evening  service.  McBride  could  not  under- 
stand how  anyone  could  come  to  their  church  and  not 
be  edified.  He  had  said  to  his  wife  that  unless  Larned 
showed  some  interest  in  church-going,  not  necessarily 
to  their  church,  he  would  see  to  it  that  his  visits  to 
Asenath  should  cease.  He  was  not  going  to  have  his 


252  •         THECHOICE 

daughter  associated  with  a  godless  young  man,  no  mat- 
ter who  his  father  might  be.  Mrs.  McBride  had  repeated 
this  to  Asenath,  who,  for  a  moment,  was  much  disturbed 
by  it.  She  made  no  answer,  however,  and,  remembering 
that  the  summer  season  was  at  hand,  in  which  church 
activity  was  at  a  minimum,  put  the  matter  out  of  her 
mind  as  of  no  immediate  importance.   In  practice, 
Asenath  never  crossed  a  bridge  before  she  came  to  it. 
Larned  laughed  at  her  remark  and  said: 
"I  thought  you  didn't  mind  going  to  church." 
"  I  didn't  mind  it  much  before,  but  I  hate  it  now." 
"Why?" 

"Oh!  I  don't  know.  I  just  don't  like  to  go." 
"Well,  talking  of  going,  I  guess  it's  time  for  me  to 
move  along.  It's  after  ten." 

He  got  up  and  looked  about  him.  On  nearly  every 
doorstep  he  saw  groups  of  people  kept  outdoors  by  the 
heat.  He  saw  them  with  his  eyes  only,  his  mind  was  on 
the  coming  separation.  He  hated  to  leave  her.  In  her 
presence  he  always  felt  serenely  happy.  She  seemed  to 
fit  into  his  every  mood.  It  was  never  necessary  for  him 
consciously  to  entertain  her.  He  would  not  have  been 
able  to  explain  satisfactorily  why  leaving  her  for  so  short 
a  period  as  three  weeks  should  bring  to  him  so  active  a 
sense  of  regret.  He  had  never  had  any  such  emotion 
before.  Perhaps  it  was  just  the  heat,  after  all,  which  took 
all  the  energy  out  of  him  and  left  him  a  prey  to  all  sorts 
of  foolish  ideas.  That  must  be  it.  And  he  mentally  pulled 


THE    CHOICE  253 

himself  together  and,  in  the  most  matter-of-fact  manner 
imaginable,  said: 

"Well,  Asenath,  I  hope  you  enjoy  your  visit  to  the 
country." 

"Don't  worry,"  she  answered,  "I  won't." 

"Maybe  you  will,  after  all.  Good-bye,"  and  he  held 
out  his  hand. 

"Good-bye,"  she  said.  Never  had  she  felt  like  this. 
It  seemed  almost  like  the  end  of  everything  for  her. 
Three  weeks  without  seeing  him  was  an  eternity.  Oh, 
if  she  could  have  held  him,  if  she  could  let  him  know 
how  she  would  miss  him;  that,  away  from  him,  she  had 
no  life  at  all,  it  was  mere  existence.  But  she  said  "good- 
bye" simply,  with  only  a  slight  wistfulness  as  the  nearest 
approach  to  an  indication  of  her  emotion. 

The  three  weeks  passed  uneventfully  for  her.  She 
went  to  the  country  and  found  it,  in  the  main,  an  agree- 
able change.  Her  cousin  was  at  home  and  the  armed 
truce  which  they  had  always  maintained  was  broken  by 
only  one  or  two  little  passages  in  the  privacy  of  their 
room.  Outside  of  their  common  apartment,  they  avoided 
each  other  as  much  as  was  compatible  with  the  mainte- 
nance of  peace  in  the  family.  There  were  some  young 
men  of  the  neighborhood,  friends  of  her  cousin,  who 
came  to  call,  but  she  found  them  almost  unbearable. 
She  measured  them  by  Lamed 's  standard  and  they  suf- 
fered violently  by  the  comparison.  They  pronounced 
her  very  dull  and,  in  their  company,  she  certainly  was. 


254  THECHOICE 

Every  day  she  went  alone  to  the  brook  with  her  sew- 
ing or  a  book  and  spent  as  much  of  her  time  there  as 
she  could.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  nearer  to 
Lamed  here.  The  impression  that  he  had  made  on  her 
that  first  day  was  the  most  vivid  thing  in  her  memory. 
She  could  see  him  now  as  he  appeared  then,  with  his  good 
looks,  his  animated  expression,  his  jolly  humor.  Here, 
she  felt  less  removed  from  him;  like  most  of  us,  she 
clutched  at  the  frame  when  the  picture  was  gone. 

Larned's  vacation  was  an  almost  unalloyed  delight  to 
him.  He  thought  much  of  Asenath,  more  than  he  would 
have  believed  possible.  He  often  wanted  to  see  her,  but 
it  was  a  desire  that  he  knew  would  soon  be  gratified,  and, 
instead  of  causing  him  regret,  it  gave  him  a  most 
pleasurable  sense  of  anticipation. 

He  came  back  to  the  city  on  Sunday  evening,  and,  on 
Monday  morning,  he  found  himself  hurrying  to  the  office 
so  that  he  might  be  sure  to  arrive  before  Asenath.  So 
early  was  it  when  he  came,  that  it  was  necessary  to  walk 
up  and  down  the  block  half  a  dozen  times  before  he  saw 
her  alight  from  the  car.  She  was  also  early. 

The  calm  of  their  greeting  was  utterly  out  of  key  with 
their  inward  perturbation.  Asenath  had  never  been  so 
excited  and  he  was  surprised  at  the  strength  of  his  own 
emotion.  The  touch  of  her  hand  electrified  him,  and  for 
the  first  time,  he  knew  what  she  really  meant  to  him. 
But  he  did  not  philosophize  over  it,  he  simply  rejoiced. 

The  few  words  they  spoke  were  almost  perfunctory. 


THE    CHOICE  255 

Neither  of  them  needed  speech  to  express  an  emotion 
which  completely  controlled  them.  Neither  of  them  felt 
any  necessity  to  communicate  their  feelings  to  each 
other.  To  be  together  again  was  enough. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THEIR  regular  weekly  meetings  were  resumed 
and  their  friendship  went  on  just  as  before.  Both 
of  them  were  conscious  that  there  was  something 
new  in  their  relationship,  a  warmth  of  feeling  greater 
than  before.  But  they  were  quite  content  to  allow  this 
to  remain  unspoken,  fearing  almost  that  its  avowal 
would  interfere  with  the  serenity  of  their  companion- 
ship. 

McBride  waited,  as  he  thought,  patiently,  for  some 
change  in  Larned's  attitude  towards  church-going.  He 
had  told  his  wife  to  inform  Asenath  of  his  desire  in  the 
matter  and  expected  that  she  would  take  suitable 
action.  Either  Lamed  was  to  identify  himself  with 
some  church  or  cease  his  visits.  He  was  not  accustomed 
to  announce  his  wishes  with  regard  to  the  action  of  the 
members  of  his  family  more  than  once  and,  con- 
sequently, he  waited  for  some  sign  of  obedience. 

None  came,  however,  and  about  the  middle  of 
October  he  took  occasion  to  issue  his  ultimatum,  this 
time  directly  to  Asenath  at  the  supper  table.  It  hap- 
pened on  a  Thursday  evening;  he  had  come  to  a  deter- 
mination on  the  way  home  from  prayer  meeting  the 
evening  before. 

"Asenath,"  he  said,  "I  haven't  heard  anything  about 
young  Larned's  going  to  church  lately." 

256 


THE    CHOICE  257 

She  knew  what  was  coming,  and  had  determined  to 
fight  it,  but,  when  the  moment  came,  her  life-long 
habit  of  non-opposition  to  her  father  prevailed  and  she 
was  silent. 

Her  silence  was  no  surprise  to  him.  He  was  given 
to  the  same  practice  himself.  Besides,  he  felt  that  there 
was  really  no  answer  to  be  made,  he  had  stated  a  fact 
which  required  neither  assent  nor  corroboration.  He 
went  on,  after  what  seemed  to  him  a  suitable  pause: 

"I  don't  want  him  coming  here  any  more.  I  don't 
want  you  to  have  anything  to  do  with  him." 

Asenath  was  still  silent,  but  inwardly  she  was  in 
revolt.  She  hated  him.  She  hated  herself  for  her  pusilla- 
nimity. To  be  compelled  to  sit  there  with  her  tongue 
tied  when  the  dearest  thing  in  her  life  was  being  taken 
from  her.  Oh!  Why  could  she  not  assert  herself?  Why 
was  she  powerless  to  tell  him  that  she  would  not  submit 
to  his  tyranny.  For  the  moment  her  hate  of  her  father, 
her  rage,  consumed  her,  she  did  not  think  of  anything 
else.  She  had  no  vivid  sense  of  her  loss  or  of  the  effect 
on  Lamed.  All  she  sensed  was  hatred,  she  wanted  to 
hurt  her  father,  she  would  have  liked  to  tear  him,  injure 
him  physically. 

But  she  sat  at  the  table,  dull,  incapable.  She  could 
not  eat,  she  could  not  talk,  she  could  not  think.  McBride 
paid  her  no  further  attention.  He  had  given  his  orders 
and  that  ended  the  matter.  He  went  on  with  his  supper, 
his  conscience  at  ease  because  of  his  virtuous  action. 


258  THE    CHOICE 

It  made  no  difference  to  him  whether  Asenath  ate  or 
not.  That  was  her  affair.  When  she  came  to  her  senses, 
as  she  was  bound  to  do  soon,  she  would  eat  if  she  were 
hungry.  He  did  not  notice  her  silence.  He  was  used  to 
that,  he  had  not  expected  her  to  answer  him.  In  fact, 
in  his  opinion,  there  was  no  answer  to  make.  He  did 
not  require  verbal  acquiescence,  he  looked  for  obedience 
only,  and  he  made  no  doubt  that  it  would  be  forth- 
coming. 

Mrs.  McBride,  however,  accustomed  as  she  was  to 
accept  his  least  word  as  final,  was  in  a  state  of  great 
excitement.  She  knew  what  a  blow  this  would  be  to 
Asenath,  and  the  maternal  instinct  in  her  filled  her 
with  pity,  with  a  keen  desire  to  lessen  the  violence  of 
her  pain.  But  the  habit  of  years  was  strong  upon  her 
and  she  too  sat  silent,  impatiently  awaiting  the  end 
of  the  meal,  so  that  she  might  talk  to  Asenath  privately 
to  give  her  the  relief  that  speech  would  bring. 

As  soon  as  the  meal  was  over,  however,  Asenath  went 
to  her  room,  without  making  any  apology  for  not 
helping  her  mother  to  clear  up.  Mrs.  McBride  made 
no  comment.  She  went  about  her  work  silently,  in  the 
greatest  misery.  She  did  not  know  what  to  do;  whether 
to  go  to  her  as  soon  as  she  was  through,  in  order  to 
give  her  what  comfort  she  could,  or  to  await  her  re- 
appearance. Perhaps  it  might  be  better  for  Asenath  to 
work  out  her  own  salvation,  perhaps  she  would  rather 
be  alone. 


THE    CHOICE  259 

But  she  could  not  wait.  When  her  work  was  finished, 
she  went  to  Asenath's  room.  She  expected  to  find  her 
in  tears,  in  lively  distress,  but  instead  she  found  her 
sitting  in  her  chair,  dry-eyed,  wearing  an  expression 
she  had  never  seen  before.  Asenath  was  still  in  the 
spirit  which  had  mastered  her  while  at  the  table.  She 
was  filled  with  a  dull,  implacable  desire  for  revenge, 
and  the  recognition  of  her  powerlessness  merely  intensi- 
fied it.  She  gave  no  sign  that  she  was  aware  of  her 
mother's  entrance,  but  sat  still  in  her  chair  gazing  at 
vacancy.  Mrs.  McBride  wanted  to  be  sympathetic. 

"Don't  take  it  so  hard,"  she  said. 

"Don't  talk  to  me,"  answered  Asenath  almost  fiercely. 

"I'm  so  sorry,"  said  her  mother,  disregarding  Asen- 
ath's remark,  "I  did  everything  I  could,  but  you  know 
your  father.  When  he — 

"Yes,  I  know  him  and  I  hate  him,"  said  Asenath  with 
vehemence.  "I  won't  live  in  the  same  house  with  him. 
I'll  run  away  and  he  can  have  his  dirty  old  church  all 
to  himself." 

With  speech  the  tears  came  and,  almost  instantly, 
she  was  in  a  paroxysm  of  weeping.  Mrs.  McBride  came 
over  to  her  and  put  her  arms  about  her.  She  did  not 
resent  Asenath's  words  in  the  least.  She  knew  that  she 
must  have  some  outlet  for  her  pent-up  feelings,  and, 
after  all,  it  made  little  difference  what  she  said.  She 
was  certain  that,  in  the  end,  Asenath  would  do  exactly 
what  her  father  had  ordered. 


260  THECHOICE 

After  a  while  Asenath  regained  sufficient  composure 
to  permit  speech.  Punctuated  by  sobs,  which  she  made 
no  effort  to  control,  she  said: 

"Oh!  How  can  I  ever  tell  him?  What  will  he  think 
of  me?  He  won't  want  to  have  anything  more  to  do 
with  any  of  us." 

"There,  there,"  said  Mrs.  McBride  with  the  idea  of 
consoling  her,  "everything  will  come  out  all  right." 

"All  right,"  cried  Asenath,  "all  right!  What's  he  to 
you?  What  do  you  care?  All  you  know  is  just  to  do 
everything  that  that  old — "  She  paused.  No  epithet 
could  she  find  in  her  vocabulary  which  was  sufficiently 
strong  to  apply  to  her  father. 

"Oh!  Assy,"  said  Mrs.  McBride.  "What  way  is  that 
to  talk.  I'm  sure  Mr.  Larned  is  a  very  nice  young  man, 
but  he  ain't  the  only  one  in  the  world." 

"He's  the  only  one  in  the  world  I  want.  I  love  him. 
I'd  do  anything  for  him.  I'd  go  in  rags  for  him,  I'd — " 

This  was  a  new  phase.  Mrs.  McBride  had  not  sus- 
pected anything  of  the  sort.  She  knew  that  Asenath 
must  be  very  fond  of  him,  but  she  had  no  idea  that  her 
affection  was  as  strong  as  this.  She  did  not  know  what 
to  say  and  silently  stroked  Asenath's  hair,  wondering 
if  it  might  not  be  possible  to  do  something  to  alter 
McBride's  edict.  But  no,  that  was  impossible. 

"How  can  I  ever  tell  him?"  asked  Asenath  between 
fresh  sobs.  "What  will  he  think  of  me?  How  can  he 
expect  that  I'm  any  better  than  the  rest  of  us?  Oh!  I 


THE    CHOICE  261 

wish  I  was  dead!"  and  she  was  seized  with  a  new 
paroxysm. 

And  so  it  continued  for  over  an  hour.  Finally,  when 
she  was  calmer  outwardly,  Mrs.  McBride  left  her  and 
went  to  bed.  But  she  did  not  sleep.  Instead  she  thought 
in  her  vague,  uncertain  way  of  what  had  happened,  quite 
oblivious  of  her  husband's  sound  but  sonorous  slumber. 

Nor  did  Asenath  sleep.  When  her  mother  left  her, 
mechanically  she  undressed  and  went  to  bed,  and  lay 
there  open-eyed,  appraising  the  calamity  which  had 
befallen  her.  For  it  was  a  calamity  to  her.  Larned  was 
her  all.  Now  that  it  seemed  that  she  must  lose  him, 
she  was  conscious  of  the  fact  that,  almost  from  the 
beginning  of  his  vists,  he  was  her  sole  interest.  She  felt 
she  could  not  face  life  without  him,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  she  did  not  see  what  she  possibly  could  do  to 
retain  him.  That  he  would  cease  his  visits,  and  also 
cease  to  see  her,  she  had  no  doubt.  As  soon  as  he  heard 
McBride's  edict,  he  would  accept  it  in  the  spirit  as 
well  as  the  letter.  Asenath  was  sure  that  he  would 
never  lend  himself  to  meeting  her  surreptitiously.  She 
knew  he  liked  her,  was  very  fond  of  her,  in  fact,  but 
she  did  not  dream  that  there  was  any  possibility  that 
he  might  return  her  ardent  affection.  To  begin  with, 
he  was  so  immensely  her  superior  in  every  way,  intel- 
lectually above  all;  she  felt  him  to  be  actually  brilliant, 
and,  besides,  he  was  rich,  his  social  position  was  estab- 
lished and  he  had  ample  interests. 


262  THE    CHOICE 

He  would  be  sorry,  of  course.  She  knew  that  he 
enjoyed  their  association  keenly,  she  knew  that  he 
admired  her  in  a  way,  her  good  looks  for  one  thing. 
But  he  couldn't  be  in  love  with  her  as  she  with  him. 
She  believed  that  there  was  no  sacrifice  which  she 
would  not  make  willingly  for  his  sake,  but  she  did  not 
think  he  felt  so  towards  her. 

At  all  events,  he  must  be  told.  But  how?  She  thought 
of  writing  to  him,  and,  lying  in  bed,  she  endeavored  to 
compose  a  satisfactory  note,  only  to  find  that  she 
could  not  do  it.  Then  she  determined  to  set  out  early 
the  next  morning  in  order  to  meet  him  as  he  reached 
the  telephone  building.  She  made  a  great  effort  to  fix 
on  some  phrase  with  which  to  break  the  news  without 
showing  too  plainly  her  great  distress,  but  she  could 
not  do  this  either.  Finally,  she  determined  to  await  the 
event.  And,  having  done  this,  she  felt  more  composed, 
and  eventually  fell  asleep  as  a  clock  in  the  neighbor- 
hood struck  two. 

On  that  morning,  however,  Larned  was  detained  and 
did  not  reach  the  office  until  quite  some  time  after  his 
usual  hour.  Asenath  had  waited  until  the  last  moment 
and  then  gave  up  hope  of  seeing  him  until  the  next 
morning.  But,  while  she  was  at  her  work,  her  trouble 
returned  to  her  with  such  force  and  her  desire  to  see 
him  became  so  intense,  that  she  resolved  to  telephone 
to  him  in  his  office  if  she  could. 

Pretexting  the  necessity  of  sending  a  message  of 


THE    CHOICE  263 

great  importance,  she  had  herself  excused  and  called 
him  on  the  telephone.  She  got  her  connection  imme- 
diately. She  was  in  a  state  of  great  excitement  the 
instant  she  recognized  his  voice  and  knew  that  she 
could  not  telephone  her  message.  Controlling  herself 
as  best  she  could,  she  said : 

"This  is  Asenath.  Can  you  see  me  at  lunch  time?" 

"Sure,"  he  answered.  "What's  the  matter?" 

"I  can't  tell  you  over  the  'phone.  Where  will  you 
meet  me?" 

"What  time  are  you  off?" 

"Twelve  o'clock." 

"All  right.  Meet  me  at  the  corner  in  front  of  the 
drug  store  at  five  minutes  after  twelve." 

"Five  after  twelve.  All  right."  And  she  hung  up. 

Lamed  could  not  imagine  what  she  could  possibly 
have  to  say  to  him  of  sufficient  importance  to  brook 
no  delay.  He  had  noticed  that  she  seemed  agitated,  and 
he  knew  her  well  enough  by  now  to  recognize  that 
agitation  of  any  kind  was  most  unusual  with  her. 
Serenity  was  one  of  her  qualities  which  appealed  to 
him  strongly.  He  gave  up,  as  quite  useless,  any  specula- 
tion as  to  her  news,  but  could  not  get  it  altogether  out 
of  his  mind.  He  was  quite  uncomfortable  about  it, 
although  he  called  himself  a  fool  for  worrying  without 
real  cause. 

Promptly  at  twelve  o'clock  he  left  the  office  and 
reached  the  corner  before  she  did.  She  was  only  a  minute 


264  THE    CHOICE 

behind  him,  and,  as  he  saw  her  approach,  he  recognized 
in  her  serious  expression  that  whatever  her  news  might 
be,  it  was  something  of  the  utmost  importance  to  her. 

"Have  you  had  your  lunch?"  he  asked  her  as  she 
came  up. 

"No,  but  I  don't  want  any." 

"  If  you  want  to  talk  to  me,  it  might  as  well  be  over 
the  table.  How  long  do  you  have?  " 

"Three-quarters  of  an  hour." 

"That's  plenty.  We'll  go  into  that  restaurant  over 
there;  upstairs  where  it's  fairly  quiet." 

They  crossed  the  street  and  entered  the  restaurant. 
When  they  were  seated  and  Larned  had  given  an  order, 
he  said: 

"Now,  what  is  it?" 

"Oh!  Harold.  I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you.  Father 
won't  let  you  come  to  see  me  any  more." 

"What's  that?"  he  asked,  utterly  dumbfounded. 

"Last  night  at  supper,  he  said  that  you  weren't  to 
come  to  see  me  and  I  wasn't  to  see  you  at  all." 

"But  why?" 

"Because  you  aren't  a  church  member.  Oh!  I'm  so 
ashamed." 

"This  is  serious,"  he  said.  And  it  was.  He  knew  now 
how  much  she  meant  to  him;  in  fact,  he  had  known  it 
ever  since  his  return  from  the  mountains.  But  he  had 
been  hugging  the  delusion  that  there  was  no  use  in 
being  precipitate,  their  relationship  had  been  ideal  and 


THE    CHOICE  265 

he  wanted  it  to  go  on  undisturbed,  thinking  that  the 
test  of  time  could  not,  by  any  possibility,  be  to  their 
disadvantage. 

Asenath  was  quick  to  feel  his  dejection  and  her  heart 
leapt  within  her.  He  did  care  for  her,  she  thought,  and 
she  was  comforted.  He  would  find  a  way. 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,"  he  said.  "Had  you  any  idea 
any  such  thing  was  impending?" 

She  told  him  the  whole  story,  the  little  there  was  of  it. 
When  she  had  finished,  he  said  nothing  but  thought  deeply. 

"Asenath,"  he  said  at  length,  "I  want  some  time  to 
think  this  over.  I  guess  I  don't  have  to  tell  you  that  I 
don't  want  to  give  up  our  friendship.  Indeed,  I  won't 
give  it  up.  But  I  must  have  some  time  to  think  it  over. 
I'll  find  a  way,  somehow  or  other.  Trust  me  and  don't 
let  it  bother  you." 

She  drank  in  his  words  as  a  balm.  His  manner,  more 
than  his  words,  assured  her  that  her  fear  that  he  would 
accept  her  father's  edict  was  groundless.  She  was  almost 
happy  now.  She  was  sure  of  him.  Instinctively,  she 
knew  that  he  loved  her,  and,  with  that  knowledge,  she 
was  content,  she  could  await  the  final  event  with  perfect 
composure. 

"I'd  trust  you — with  anything,"  she  said. 

"Let's  forget  all  about  it  for  the  present,"  he  said. 
"Let's  act  as  though  nothing  had  happened.  Meet  me 
tomorrow  same  place,  same  time,  and  maybe  I'll  have 
something  to  say." 


266  THE    CHOICE 

"Yes,"  she  said. 

"In  the  meantime,"  he  resumed,  in  a  jocular  vein, 
somewhat  forced,  "I  suppose  I  had  better  get  a  cate- 
chism and  prepare  myself  for  a  religious  life.  What  sect 
would  you  propose  for  me?" 

"How  can  you  joke  about  it?"  she  asked  seriously. 

"Why  not?"  he  retorted.  "I'm  glad  that  I  can  joke 
about  it.  When  you  can  see  the  fun  in  anything,  there's 
still  hope.  How  do  you  think  I'd  make  out  as  a  Baptist?  " 

"Oh!  Harold!"  was  all  she  could  say. 

"The  Quakers  are  a  pretty  good  crowd,"  he  resumed, 
"only  I'm  afraid  the  spirit  would  move  me  once  too  often 
in  meeting  and  I  might  be  put  out." 

After  a  while  she  fell  into  his  spirit  and  was  almost 
gay.  It  was  always  thus  with  him.  His  good  humor  was 
infectious  and  she  was  utterly  without  immunity. 

When  she  left  him,  she  was  happy,  serene.  She  had 
implicit  confidence  that  he  would  find  a  way  out  of  their 
difficulty. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

E NED'S  flippancy  had  been  put  on.  He  wanted 
time  to  think  over  the  serious  problem  which 
confronted  him.  He  knew  he  loved  this  girl  and 
that  he  wanted  to  marry  her.  But  he  had  not  been  sure 
enough  of  himself,  he  did  not  want  to  "Marry  in  haste 
to  repent  at  leisure,"  he  had  wished  to  test  her  attrac- 
tion for  him  thoroughly  before  they  were  committed. 
In  all  of  their  association,  neither  of  them  had  ever,  by 
any  word  or  act,  suggested  that  theirs  was  anything  but 
a  platonic  friendship. 

What  was  he  to  do?  It  was  impossible  to  discuss  the 
subject  with  McBride,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  the 
maintenance  of  a  decent  pride.  He  was  unwilling  even 
to  suggest  to  Asenath  that  they  meet  outside  of  her 
home.  It  was  either  all  or  nothing.  If  she  were  willing, 
they  might  be  married  without  her  parents'  consent. 
That  was  easy;  one  hour  could  carry  them  into  the 
neighboring  State  where  there  was  a  veritable  Gretna 
Green,  and,  after  that,  the  McBrides  could  suit  them- 
selves. Or  they  might  wait  for  a  few  months  and  see 
how  they  felt  then.  But  even  as  he  thought  of  this  alter- 
native, he  knew  that  he  could  not  wait;  he  must  see  her, 
he  must  be  with  her. 

He  took  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  off  and  went  into  the 
country  for  a  long  tramp.  He  could  always  think  better 

267 


268  THE    CHOICE 

when  he  was  afoot,  and  this  was  no  exception.  The  day 
was  fair,  the  air  cool  and  bracing  and  the  country  in  its 
autumn  garb  was  most  lovely.  He  had  walked  for  less 
than  an  hour  when  his  mind  was  made  up.  If  Asenath 
were  willing,  they  would  be  married  immediately.  There 
was  only  one  condition  which  he  made  with  himself,  he 
would  talk  it  over  first  with  his  parents.  He  wanted 
them  to  know  and  approve.  Of  the  latter  he  had  no 
doubt  whatever,  for  many  experiences  had  proven  that 
they  would  not  interfere  with  any  project  of  his  to  which 
he  had  given  careful  consideration.  Advice  might  be 
offered,  but  opposition  never. 

That  evening,  after  dinner,  he  told  them  the  whole 
story  in  detail.  He  had  spoken  of  Asenath  to  them 
before,  but  had  never  intimated,  even  in  the  slightest 
way,  that  she  had  any  strong  hold  on  his  affection. 
They  had  been  much  interested  in  his  descriptions  of 
the  McBride  household,  in  his  course  of  reading  for 
Asenath,  and  had  looked  upon  it  as  just  another  mani- 
festation of  his  teaching  instinct.  They  listened  gravely 
to  his  recital,  showing  little  of  the  surprise  they  felt, 
and,  when  he  had  finished,  with  the  statement  that  he 
was  about  to  propose  marriage  without  the  knowledge 
of  Asenath's  parents,  they  were  both  silent. 
After  a  little  while,  Larned  senior  spoke: 
"  Harold,  what  you  propose  is  a  very  serious  matter, 
one  in  which  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  advise  you.  If  you 
have  given  the  question  all  of  the  consideration  it 


THECHOICE  269 

deserves;  if  you  are  sure  that  this  girl  will  make  you 
happy;  if  you  are  sure  you  can  make  her  happy,  I've 
nothing  to  say.  It's  your  life  which  is  at  stake,  your 
happiness.  This  is  one  of  the  things  which  every  man 
must  decide  for  himself.  Nobody  can  decide  for  him. 
I  would  rather  you  had  waited  a  little  longer  before 
reaching  a  decision,  but  even  that  is  your  own  problem." 

"  I  knew  you'd  feel  that  v/ay,  father,"  said  Harold. 
"How  do  you  feel  about  it,  mother?" 

"You  know  how  I  feel,  my  dear,"  she  answered. 
"Your  wife,  whoever  she  is,  will  be  my  daughter  as  long 
as  she  wants  to  be.  I  hope  you  have  chosen  wisely  both 
for  yourself  and  her."  She  was  much  affected,  and  there 
were  tears  in  her  eyes,  but  she  smiled  brightly  at  him. 
For  answer,  he  kissed  her. 

They  discussed  the  details  of  Harold's  contemplated 
action,  based,  of  course,  upon  Asenath's  acquiescence.  It 
was  arranged  that  immediately  after  the  marriage  they 
were  to  come  to  Larneds'  and  make  their  home  there 
until  such  time  as  they  should  desire  to  set  up  an  estab- 
lishment of  their  own. 

Promptly  at  noon  the  next  day  Lamed  was  at  the 
corner  waiting  for  Asenath.  His  whole  morning  had 
been  idle,  for  he  could  not  work.  His  mind  was  made  up 
and  he  literally  burned  to  learn  Asenath's  decision. 
Although,  in  the  main,  he  had  no  doubt  that  she  would 
do  as  he  wished,  he  had  had  no  word  from  her  which 
justified  him  in  this  belief  and,  occasionally,  he  found 


270  THECHOICE 

himself  wondering  if,  after  all,  her  long-established  habit 
of  obedience  to  her  father  might  not  make  her  hesitate 
to  take  this  final  step. 

But  when  he  saw  her  approach,  the  look  in  her  eyes 
convinced  him  that  there  was  no  basis  for  even  the 
shadow  of  a  doubt. 

He  greeted  her  warmly,  and  then: 

"Are  you  hungry?  "  he  asked.  "  Do  you  want  to  eat?  " 

"No,"  she  answered,  "why?" 

"  I  don't  think  I  could  talk  to  you  as  I  want  to  in  a 
restaurant.  Let's  walk." 

"Very  well,"  she  answered,  and  fell  into  step  beside 
him.  He  searched  his  mind  for  a  moment  for  a  suitable 
beginning,  and,  finding  none,  plunged  in  without  further 
thought. 

"Asenath,"  he  said,  "I  love  you;  I'm  sure  you  know 
it,  don't  you?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered  with  great  earnestness,  "and  I 
love  you;  I  can't  tell  you  how  much.  If  I  loved  you  before 
night  before  last,  I  more  than  love  you  now.  You're 
simply  everything  to  me." 

There  was  no  doubting  her  utter  sincerity.  Her  great 
love  for  him  had  given  her  speech.  He  was  much  moved. 

"I've  loved  you  for  quite  a  long  time,"  he  said,  "but 
I  wanted  to  make  sure.  I  wanted  to  know,  beyond  the 
slightest  doubt,  that  my  love  was  fixed,  final.  I  wanted 
to  wait,  to  go  on  as  we  were  until  there  could  be  no 
possible  chance  of  making  a  mistake.  But  your  father's 


THE    CHOICE  271 

action  has  shown  me  that  there  is  no  doubt,  and, 
further,  that  I  cannot  wait.  Asenath,  will  you  marry 
me?" 

"Yes,"  she  said. 

"Will  you  marry  me  now — today?" 

"Yes." 

"Very  well.  There's  a  train  at  one  o'clock  that  will 
get  us  to  Berryville,  that's  right  across  the  state  line,  at 
a  little  before  two.  We  can  go  to  a  minister  or  a  justice 
of  the  peace,  be  married,  and  catch  the  3.15  train  home. 
We'll  go  to  my  house,  my  father  and  mother  know  all 
about  it  and  will  be  happy  to  receive  you  as  their 
daughter.  We'll  send  word  to  your  father  that  we're 
married  and  where  we  are.  That  will  put  the  next  move 
up  to  him.  Are  you  willing?" 

And  again  Asenath  said  "yes." 

At  half  past  four  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harold  Prentis 
Lamed  entered  the  Lamed  house.  Harold  had  tele- 
phoned from  the  railway  station  that  they  had  decided 
and  would  be  there  at  that  time.  So  the  senior  Larneds 
were  waiting  for  them  and  the  welcome  that  Asenath 
received  from  her  parents-in-law  was  so  cordial,  so 
tactful  that  all  of  her  doubts  in  their  regard  vanished. 
She  was  much  excited  because,  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life,  she  had  disobeyed  her  father,  and  her  fear  of  him 
was  great.  All  of  Harold's  assurances  scarcely  convinced 
her  that  he  might  not  have  some  power  to  undo  what 
they  had  done. 


272  THE    CHOICE 

Shortly  after  the  greetings  were  over,  Asenath  wrote 
the  following  note  at  Harold's  dictation: 
Dear  Father: 

I  was  married  this  afternoon  to  Harold 
Larned.  I  know  you  will  be  shocked  to  learn 
this  and  I  am  sorry  that  I  have  had  to  do  what 
I  am  sure  will  cause  you  disappointment.  But 
I  had  no  alternative;  between  you  and  Harold, 
I  had  to  choose  him. 

I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  and  believe  me 
to  be  as  always 

Your  loving  daughter, 

Asenath. 

We  are  staying  at  my  father-in-law's  house. 

The  letter  had  just  been  inserted  in  the  envelope 
when  Asenath  uttered  an  exclamation. 

"What  is  it?"  Harold  asked. 

"I  wonder  if  I  could  put  in  something  about  my 
things." 

"Oh!  I  wouldn't.  It's  scarcely  appropriate.  I'll  tell 
you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  deliver  the  letter  myself  and  bring 
back  whatever  you  want.  Will  your  mother  know  what 
to  send?" 

"Yes,  she'll  know.  I  haven't  got  so  much." 

And  so  it  was  arranged. 

Larned,  in  his  impatience  to  return,  called  a  taxi 
from  a  neighboring  garage  and  was  soon  ringing 
McBrides'  bell. 

His  unsuspecting  mother-in-law   opened   the   door 


THE    CHOICE  273 

almost  immediately.  She  had  been  much  concerned  by 
Asenath's  failure  to  appear.  Never  once,  since  she  had 
been  employed  by  the  Telephone  Company,  had  she 
missed  coming  directly  home  unless  she  had  previously 
announced  it.  Today,  when  Asenath  did  not  come  in 
time  for  lunch  her  mother  imagined  that  she  had  been 
detained  in  the  exchange,  but,  as  the  afternoon  wore 
on  without  her  coming  or  sending  word,  she  became 
nervous.  Once  during  the  long  afternoon  she  was 
reminded  of  Asenath's  threat  to  run  away,  but  instantly 
put  this  idea  to  one  side  as  inconceivable. 

When  she  saw  Larned  standing  on  the  step,  she  knew 
instantly  that  he  had  come  to  bring  her  news  of  Asenath. 

"Where's  Asenath?"  she  cried. 

"She's  at  our  house,"  Larned  answered  with  extra- 
ordinary suavity,  put  on  to  cover  the  triumph  he  felt. 
"Here's  a  letter  from  her  for  Mr.  McBride." 

"What's  she  doing  there?" 

"The  letter  will  tell  you." 

Nervously,  she  invited  him  to  come  in  and  bade  him 
take  a  seat  in  the  parlor  while  she  ran  upstairs  to 
deliver  the  letter. 

A  few  minutes  later,  McBride  appeared  in  the  parlor 
with  the  letter  in  his  hand.  His  face  was  purple  with 
suppressed  rage. 

"I  want  you  to  get  out  of  this  house  before  I  throw 
you  out,"  he  said  through  his  teeth.  "Mother,"  he 
said  to  his  wife,  "show  him  the  door." 


274  THE    CHOICE 

"Good  evening,"  said  Larned  as  he  left  the  room.  As 
he  was  about  to  leave  the  house,  he  suddenly  remem- 
bered that  he  was  to  bring  some  things  for  Asenath. 
He  stood  in  the  doorway  and  mentioned  it  to  Mrs. 
McBride.  She  took  the  suitcase  with  which  he  had 
provided  himself  and  whispered  to  him  to  wait  on  the 
step  until  she  brought  it  to  him. 

It  was  fully  five  minutes  before  she  returned.  He 
thanked  her  and  was  already  halfway  down  the  steps 
when  she  whispered: 

"Give  her  my  love." 

"All  right.  Thank  you.  Good-bye,"  he  said. 

As  he  opened  the  door  of  the  cab,  he  took  one  last 
look  at  the  commonplace  dwelling  in  which  he  had 
spent  so  many  delightful  hours.  To-day,  it  appeared 
to  him  for  the  first  time  in  its  true  color,  and  he  gaily 
reflected:  "Why  not,  when  she's  no  longer  there." 

He  drove  to  a  jeweler's  shop  and  purchased  a  wedding 
ring.  He  did  not  have  it  engraved,  because  he  could 
not  be  sure  of  the  size.  Then  he  drove  home. 

Asenath's  pride  in  her  ring  was  so  manifest  that  all 
the  Larneds  were  delighted.  She  was  so  simple,  so 
ingenuous  and  withal  so  beautiful.  Both  of  Harold's 
parents  were  most  favorably  impressed  by  her  and 
were  entirely  ready  to  approve  of  Harold's  decision 
in  this  as  in  every  other  matter  in  which  he  had  been 
compelled  to  make  a  choice. 

Asenath  was  entirely  unaffected  by  what  Harold 


THE    CHOICE  275 

told  her  of  his  reception  by  her  father,  but  she  was 
touched  by  her  mother's  message.  Quickly,  however, 
she  forgot  both  of  them  in  her  new  happiness.  To  be 
Harold's  wife,  to  have  him  take  her  in  his  strong  arms, 
to  receive  and  return  his  kisses  was  heaven. 

They  were  both  too  ecstatic  to  make  any  ordered 
conversation  possible.  But  there  was  no  longer  any 
need  to  justify  their  being  together.  They  belonged 
together  and  physical  contact  was  what  their  youth 
cried  for,  and  not  for  either  wit  or  wisdom. 

They  were  a  merry  party  at  dinner.  Larned  senior 
produced  a  bottle  of  champagne,  "The  only  one  he 
owned,"  he  said,  which  he  had  been  saving  for  some 
"grand"  occasion.  In  their  excitement  both  Harold 
and  Asenath  had  forgotten  that  they  had  eaten  no 
lunch. 

After  dinner,  the  four  of  them  continued  their  talk 
at  the  table  for  about  an  hour.  Then  Harold  proposed 
a  walk  and  Asenath  eagerly  agreed. 

Hand  and  hand,  and  sometimes  with  his  arm  about 
her  waist,  they  walked  in  the  starlit  night.  Too  happy 
to  talk,  they  sensed  each  other's  joy  and  were  wonder- 
fully content  to  be  silent.  Occasionally  Harold  would 
make  some  remark  to  which  Asenath  would  return  a 
monosyllabic  reply,  but  that  was  all. 

They  were  conscious  of  nothing  but  each  other.  They 
were  supremely  happy. 


PART  FOUR 

ASENATH 

CHAPTER  XXXIII 

SUNDAY  morning  breakfast  was  an  event  in  the 
Larned  household.  It  was  a  leisurely  meal  which 
began  about  ten  o'clock  and  usually  lasted  until 
eleven.  Harold  had  told  Asenath  about  it  in  one  of  their 
talks,  so  she  knew  what  to  expect. 

Asenath 's  eyes  had  been  busy  from  the  first  moment 
of  her  entrance  into  the  house.  She  had  keen  vision 
for  design  of  any  kind  and  a  trustworthy  visual  memory. 
She  liked  the  house,  the  simplicity  of  its  decoration, 
the  quiet  tone  of  its  colorings  appealed  to  her  good 
taste. 

The  Larneds  lived  very  simply.  Entirely  as  a  matter 
of  personal  comfort,  and  not  from  motives  of  economy, 
Mrs.  Larned  kept  but  one  maid.  She  declared  to  her 
friends  that  it  made  her  housekeeping  much  easier. 
She  was  an  extraordinarily  fine  cook  herself  and 
possessed  the  ability  to  impart  her  knowledge.  She 
shared  at  least  one  quality  with  Harold — that  of  the 
teacher.  Her  house  was  always  orderly  without  prim- 
ness. One  never  had  the  feeling  that  to  move  a  chair 
or  a  book  from  its  place  would  make  much  of  a  change 
in  the  general  effect.  All  of  the  rooms  looked  as  though 
they  had  been  arranged  for  use  and  comfort  as  well  as 

276 


THE    CHOICE  277 

for  their  appeal  to  the  purely  aesthetic.  They  were 
not  too  orderly,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  they  were 
never  disorderly. 

Of  course,  Asenath  did  not  take  these  facts  into  her 
understanding.  She  was  much  too  inexperienced  for 
that.  But  she  saw  the  details,  noted  the  general  effect 
and  literally  breathed  the  atmosphere.  It  was  all  as 
new  and  strange  to  her  as  could  be;  it  was  even  a 
complete  contrast  to  what  she  had  seen  in  Mary 
Dunne's  house.  There  the  surroundings  were  luxurious. 
Although  the  general  tone  was  one  of  restraint,  the  sense 
of  the  costliness  of  it  all  was  unavoidable,  while  in 
Larneds'  house  one  had  no  such  feeling. 

Asenath's  reaction  to  these  surroundings  was  instant. 
She  felt  comfortable,  at  home.  It  was  as  though  she 
had  come  into  her  own.  She  could  not  have  explained 
it;  she  did  not  analyze  her  feelings,  she  did  not  even 
identify  them,  she  was  simply  at  her  ease. 

This  morning,  as  she  came  into  the  dining  room,  she 
was  more  beautiful  than  she  had  ever  been  in  her  life. 
There  was  a  tenderness  in  her  expression  which  lent 
a  spiritual  quality  to  her  perfection  of  feature.  Both 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Larned  were  struck  with  astonishment 
at  the  sight  of  her,  while  Harold  found  himself  almost 
adoring  her. 

"Good  morning,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Larned,  kissing 
her,  "You  look  perfectly  lovely  this  morning." 

Asenath  was  delighted.  She  was  touched  by  Mrs. 


278  THE    CHOICE 

Larned's  sincere  admiration.  "How  lovely  she  is,"  she 
thought,  but  she  said  only  "Good  morning,"  accom- 
panied by  a  smile  which  contained  a  world  of  meaning 
for  the  beholder,  but  which  was  simply  the  expression 
of  a  pleasure  which  lost  none  of  its  zest  because  it  was 
inarticulate. 

"Good  morning,  little  girl,"  said  Lamed  senior  in 
his  turn.  He  too  kissed  her  and,  as  he  did  so,  she  con- 
trasted her  affectionate  relationship  to  these  almost 
strangers  to  the  cold,  matter-of-fact  aloofness  of  her 
own  parents.  She  was  conscious  of  a  great  flood  of 
tenderness  for  these  dear  people.  It  was  apparent  in 
her  heightened  color,  in  the  quickness  of  her  breath, 
that  she  was  sensible  of  their  open-hearted  acceptance 
of  her  as  one  of  them,  as  their  daughter. 

The  breakfast  was  delicious  and  bountiful.  The  talk 
was  gay  and  witty,  but  Asenath  could  not  understand 
much  of  their  badinage.  It  seemed  to  her  that  they 
couldn't  possibly  mean  many  of  the  things  which  they 
said  to  each  other,  but  they  were  spoken  apparently 
with  perfect  seriousness,  even  though  they  were 
received  smilingly.  "They  must  be  joking,"  she  thought, 
but  still  it  seemed  queer. 

Presently  her  turn  came.  Harold  said : 

"Asenath,  we'll  have  to  hurry,  or  we'll  be  late  for 
church." 

"Church?"  she  exclaimed.  "Do  you  mean  it?" 

"Of  course.  Don't  you  go  to  church  every  Sunday?" 


THE    CHOICE  279 

"Oh!  Harold.  You  don't  mean  it.  You  don't  want  to 
go  to  church." 

"Of  course  not,  but  I'm  perfectly  willing  to  sacrifice 
myself.  What  church  shall  we  go  to?" 

Asenath  was  completely  bewildered.  She  did  not 
know  what  to  say.  Mrs.  Larned  saw  her  embarrassment 
and  rushed  to  her  rescue. 

"Don't  pay  any  attention  to  him,  dear,  he's  just 
fooling." 

"Oh!"  said  Asenath  with  great  relief. 

"You  really  ought  to  punish  him,"  said  Mrs.  Larned 
smiling,  "you  ought  to  take  him  at  his  word  and  make 
him  go  to  church  with  you.  It  wouldn't  hurt  him  any- 
way." 

"Do  you  really  think  we  ought  to  go?"  inquired 
Asenath,  anxious  to  please  her  mother-in-law. 

"No,  my  dear.  Not  unless  you  really  want  to  go  on 
your  own  account." 

"Oh!  No.  I  don't  want  to  go,"  declared  Asenath  with 
conviction,  "I  hate  it." 

During  the  afternoon  Harold  had  an  inspiration.  He 
determined  to  ask  for  a  special  leave  of  one  week  for 
a  short  wedding  trip.  He  made  no  doubt  of  his  ability 
to  obtain  it  and  asked  Asenath  where  she  would  like 
to  go.  She  was  willing  to  go  anywhere,  to  do  anything 
he  wanted.  She  had  never  made  any  trip  out  of  the 
city  except  to  her  Uncle's  farm.  Harold  decided  that 
she  would  probably  enjoy  New  York  more  than  any 


280  THE    CHOICE 

other  place  within  easy  reach.  She  was  highly  delighted, 
for  New  York  meant  to  her  the  capital  of  fashion,  of 
luxury,  of  life  on  a  grand  scale.  Suddenly  it  occurred 
to  her  that  she  was  without  suitable  clothes.  Harold, 
who  knew  nothing  of  such  matters,  protested  that, 
with  a  face  and  figure  like  hers,  she  did  not  need  any. 
While  this  discussion  was  on,  Mrs.  Larned  came  into 
the  room  and  agreed  with  Asenath.  So  it  was  decided 
that  the  trip  be  postponed  for  two  weeks,  in  which 
time  the  absolutely  necessary  apparel  could  easily  be 
obtained. 

Later  in  the  afternoon,  some  of  the  connections  and 
friends  of  the  family  dropped  in,  and  Asenath  under- 
went what  she  feared  would  be  a  trying  ordeal,  but 
which  proved  to  be  quite  the  opposite.  She  carried 
herself  very  well.  As  usual,  she  said  little,  but  her  good 
looks,  her  gracious  smile  won  everyone  who  met  her, 
and  Harold  was  voted  a  lucky  fellow. 

Monday  morning  seemed  a  strange  experience.  She 
arose  with  Harold,  breakfasted  with  him  and  accom- 
panied him  to  the  corner  where  he  took  the  car.  She 
watched  him  get  into  the  car,  waved  her  hand  to  him 
and  then  walked  slowly  back  to  her  new  home.  She  felt 
lonely  and  strange.  Except  for  the  hour  during  which 
they  had  been  separated  on  Saturday  afternoon,  she 
had  been  with  him  constantly  since  their  marriage. 
And  with  him,  she  could  face  the  whole  world.  Affection- 
ately as  she  had  been  received  by  the  Larneds,  she  had 


THE    CHOICE  281 

scarcely  spent  any  time  in  their  company  alone.  It 
would  have  been  different,  she  thought,  if  she  and 
Harold  had  a  house  of  their  own.  She  was  sure  that 
she  could  face  solitude  in  her  own  house  more  easily 
than  the  society  of  Mrs.  Larned  in  hers. 

However,  there  was  no  course  open  but  to  go  back, 
and  so  back  she  went.  Mrs.  Larned  was  waiting  for  her. 

"My  dear,"  she  said,  "let's  come  to  an  understanding 
as  soon  as  we  can.  I  want  you  to  be  perfectly  comfortable 
here.  I  want  you  to  feel  that  it's  your  home  just  as 
long  as  you  want  it  to  be.  We  musn't  treat  each  other 
as  company.  When  we  want  to  be  together,  we  can  be 
together,  and  when  we  want  to  be  alone,  don't  let's 
have  any  feeling  that  we  can't  do  just  as  we  please. 
Don't  you  think  that  will  be  better?" 

"Yes,"  said  Asenath.  She  was  immensely  relieved, 
Mrs.  Larned  made  everything  so  easy. 

"Now,  I've  my  work  to  do.  You  know  I  only  keep 
one  maid  regularly  and  I  do  a  lot  of  the  housework 
myself.  I  prefer  it.  Of  course,  I  don't  do  the  heavy 
work.  I  have  a  laundress  who  comes  in  two  days  a  week, 
and  a  woman,  who  does  cleaning  for  me,  comes  a  couple 
of  days.  But  I  dress  the  beds  and  dust  and  do  odds  and 
ends.  There's  always  a  lot  of  them  in  every  house. 
Now,  you  get  a  book  or  go  out  for  a  walk  or  do  anything 
you  please." 

"Can  I  help  you?"  asked  Asenath.  "I  used  to  help 
ma — mother." 


282  THE    CHOICE 

"Some  other  time,  perhaps,  but  not  today.  Remem- 
ber you're  a  bride.  You're  entitled  to  take  it  easy  for  a 
little  while." 

"Mrs. — mother,"  it  came  very  hard  for  Asenath 
thus  to  address  Mrs.  Lamed  in  spite  of  the  affection 
she  had  shown  her,  "do  you  think  I  could  go  to  see 
my  mother?  Father  will  be  at  work." 

"That's  a  fine  idea.  Do  you  want  to  go  this  morning?" 

"Yes." 

"All  right.  Run  along.  You'll  be  back  for  lunch,  of 
course.  One  o'clock." 

"Oh!  Yes.  I  won't  be  long." 

"Stay  as  long  as  you  like,  and  if  you  should  change 
your  mind  about  lunch  and  decide  to  stay  with  your 
mother,  just  'phone  me." 

"Oh!  I'll  be  back." 

"Tell  your  mother  that  I  am  sorry  that  we  cannot 
make  each  other's  acquaintance  as  yet,  but  that  I 
hope  we  may  soon  be  able  to  do  so." 

Asenath  put  on  her  hat  and  coat,  which  she  had 
taken  off  but  a  few  minutes  earlier,  and  set  out.  She 
was  surprised  when  Mrs.  Larned  offered  to  kiss  her 
when  she  was  ready  to  go,  but  she  did  not  show  her 
surprise  and  acted  as  though  it  was  not  entirely  unex- 
pected. Asenath  could  do  these  things  because,  though 
quick  in  her  actions,  she  was  never  in  a  hurry;  she  did 
nothing  precipitately. 

But,  as  she  walked  down  the  street  on  this  bright 


THE    CHOICE  283 

October  morning,  she  again  made  the  contrast  between 
Harold's  parents  and  her  own.  It  was  sufficient  for  her 
to  establish  the  difference  in  her  own  mind.  It  did  not 
occur  to  her  to  go  below  the  surface  and  seek  the 
reason. 

She  was  most  anxious  to  see  her  mother.  In  the  first 
place,  she  was  drawn  by  a  perfectly  natural  instinct, 
and  in  the  second,  by  far  the  more  powerful,  she  felt  the 
need  of  recognition  of  her  success  in  marrying  a  man 
of  so  superior  a  station.  She  knew  that  she  could  look 
for  admiration  of  her  exploit  only  from  those  of  her 
own  condition  in  life.  From  those  in  a  superior  position 
she  would  be  considered  merely  lucky.  At  the  risk  of 
appearing  tedious,  it  is  necessary  to  state  that  these 
reasons  were  not  apparent  to  Asenath.  All  that  she 
recognized  was  that  she  wanted  to  see  her  mother. 

And  so  much  did  she  wish  to  see  her  that,  when  she 
had  left  the  car,  after  what  had  seemed  an  age-long 
ride,  she  fairly  ran.  Her  ring  was  answered  promptly, 
but  to  her,  to  whom  it  appeared  that  two  months  rather 
than  two  days  had  passed  since  she  left  home,  the  wait 
was  unending. 

"Assie,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  McBride,  as  she  opened  the 
door.  There  was  no  mistaking  the  welcome,  the  happi- 
ness in  her  tone.  "Is  it  really  you?" 

"It's  me  all  right,"  answered  Asenath,  following  her 
mother  into  the  house.  "I  thought  I'd  run  over  to 
see  how  you  were  while  papa's  out." 


284  THECHOICE 

"I'm  so  glad  you've  come.  I've  been  dying  to  see 
you.  But  Oh!  how  could  you  ever  run  away  like  that?" 

"What  was  I  going  to  do?  Papa  said  Harold  couldn't 
come  to  the  house  to  see  me  and  I  couldn't  see  him 
anywhere  else.  So  I  told  him  on  Friday  noon,  and  he 
told  me  to  wait  until  Saturday  the  same  time.  So,  on 
Saturday  he  met  me  again  at  the  same  place  and  we 
talked  it  all  over  and  went  right  off  to  Berryville  and 
got  married.  See?"  She  held  up  her  left  hand  so  that  her 
mother  might  see  her  ring. 

"Go  on,"  said  Mrs.  McBride,  wildly  curious.  "What 
did  you  do  then?" 

"Then  we  went  to  Larneds'.  Oh !  they're  the  loveliest 
people.  Mrs.  Larned,  I  just  can't  get  to  calling  her 
'mother,'  is  just  as  sweet  as  she  can  be  and  Mr.  Larned's 
just  grand.  I  wish  you  could  meet  them.  Oh!  I  forgot! 
Mrs.  Larned  told  me  to  tell  you  that  she  hoped  she 
could  soon  meet  you.  You'd  love  her.  Is  papa  awful 
mad  at  me?" 

"He  won't  even  let  me  talk  about  you.  Oh!  It's 
been  awful  lonely  in  the  house  without  you.  What 
kind  of  a  house  is  Larneds'?" 

"It's  beautiful.  You'd  just  love  it."  And  so  on. 

For  a  full  hour  they  sat  in  the  parlor,  Mrs.  McBride 
constantly  questioning  and  Asenath  answering.  When 
Mrs.  McBride  finally  ran  out  of  questions,  Asenath 
said: 

"Well,  I  guess  I'd  better  be  going.  We  have  lunch  at 


THE    CHOICE  285 

one,  and  we're  going  shopping  this  afternoon.  I'll  just 
run  upstairs  to  get  some  of  my  things." 

"I'll  come  up  with  you  and  help  you  wrap  them  up." 

When  they  were  upstairs,  Mrs.  McBride  did  all  the 
work  while  Asenath  directed.  She  also  carried  the 
package  downstairs  while  her  daughter  followed,  putting 
on  her  gloves.  When  Asenath  was  on  the  step  and  ready 
to  go,  Mrs.  McBride  said : 

"You'll  come  often,  won't  you?" 

"Sure,"  answered  Asenath.  "So  long."  And  off  she 
went,  perfectly  satisfied.  She  had  seen  admiration  of 
her  and  her  achievement  in  her  mother's  eye.  She  knew 
that  Mrs.  McBride  would  neglect  her  ironing  in  order 
to  lose  no  time  in  communicating  the  news,  in  full 
detail,  to  her  sister  around  the  corner,  and  that,  in  an 
ever  widening  stream,  it  would  flow  to  all  who  knew 
them. 

In  the  afternoon,  Asenath  quite  surprised  Mrs. 
Lamed  by  the  certainty  with  which  she  chose  the 
various  items  of  dress  of  which  she  stood  in  need.  Mrs. 
Lamed  was  also  surprised  and  pleased  by  the  good 
judgment  she  displayed  in  her  selections.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  Asenath  was  very  economical,  but,  to  Asenath, 
who  had  never  spent  more  than  ten  dollars  at  one  time 
in  her  life,  it  seemed  that  they  were  disbursing  a 
fabulous  amount. 

She  had  never  imagined  such  joy  in  shopping.  It 
is  true  that  she  had  always  had  the  pleasure  of  anticipa- 


286  THE    CHOICE 

tion  of  the  final  result  when  she  and  her  mother  had 
searched  until  they  found  the  very  best  thing  their 
scanty  funds  would  buy,  but  she  had  never  taken  any 
great  pride  in  accomplishing  the  confection  of  a  beautiful 
dress  for  ten  dollars,  which  would  have  cost  the  average 
purchaser  three  or  four  times  as  much.  She  sought  the 
end,  to  be  dressed  according  to  her  taste;  the  limited 
means  were  simply  a  disagreeable  necessity  and  no 
source  of  satisfaction  in  the  result. 

Their  shopping  was  very  comprehensive,  and  Asenath 
enjoyed  it,  but  long  before  it  was  over,  she  became 
impatient.  The  time  was  approaching  when  she  would 
see  Harold,  and  beside  him,  even  shopping,  with 
apparently  unlimited  funds,  was  not  interesting.  She 
was  afraid  that  he  might  reach  home  before  them,  but 
this  fear  was  groundless,  as  they  preceded  him  by  fully 
fifteen  minutes,  the  last  five  of  which  Asenath  spent 
in  the  hall  near  the  front  door  so  that  she  might  hear 
his  key  the  moment  it  entered  the  lock. 

When  he  opened  the  door,  she  was  waiting  behind  it. 
She  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck,  kissed  him  raptur- 
ously, and  then  laying  her  head  on  his  shoulder  she 
whispered,  "Oh!  Harold.  I  love  you." 

He  was  transported  with  delight.  The  day  had  seemed 
endless,  but  this  was  a  sufficient  reward  for  any  trial. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

THE  one  event  of  her  life  which  always  took 
the  place  of  greatest  prominence  in  Asenath's 
memory  was  her  marriage  and  particularly  the 
manner  of  it.  Not  second  to  it,  but  near  it  nevertheless, 
was  her  wedding  trip.  She  had  acquiesced  in  the  pro- 
posal without  a  great  deal  of  interest  of  her  own,  just  as 
she  would  willingly  have  agreed  to  anything  Harold 
wished.  At  the  time  that  he  had  suggested  their  making 
a  trip,  she  was  so  perfectly  happy  to  be  able  to  be  with 
him  constantly  that  she  would  have  been  equally 
pleased  had  he  proposed  to  obtain  the  week's  leave  of 
absence  and  spend  it  at  home. 

But  two  weeks  later,  when  she  had  become  somewhat 
accustomed  to  being  with  him  constantly  outside  of 
office  hours,  the  prospect  of  going  to  New  York  with 
him  took  on  a  very  brilliant  hue.  For  several  days 
before  they  went,  it  was  practically  her  only  preoccu- 
pation outside  of  Harold. 

Seated  in  a  Pullman  for  the  first  time,  Asenath  saw 
the  world  from  a  new  angle.  It  was  like  her  first  ride  in 
the  Dunne  limousine.  She  was  delighted  with  it.  It 
seemed  as  though  she  had  always  wanted  to  travel 
exactly  like  this,  among  people  whose  manner  and  dress 
betokened  financial  ease  if  not  wealth,  without  jostling 
or  crowding,  and,  above  all,  without  any  poor  looking 

287 


288  THE    CHOICE 

people  in  view,  no  crying  babies,  no  immigrants  or 
negroes. 

The  trip  to  New  York  was  a  matter  of  but  a  few 
hours.  In  the  station  they  boarded  a  taxicab  and  were 
carried  to  one  of  the  fine  new  hotels.  Asenath  was 
immensely  impressed  with  the  luxury  of  it  all  and  when 
they  were  shown  into  their  rooms  she  dropped  into  an 
armchair  with  a  sigh  of  contentment. 

"What  is  it,  dear?"  asked  Larned. 

"Oh!  It's  lovely  here.  I  never  thought  a  hotel  could 
be  so  fine." 

"Have  you  visited  very  many?"  he  asked  with  an  air 
which  showed  Asenath  that  she  was  to  take  it  as  a  joke. 

"Yes,  I've  been  in  the  Mohawk  Hotel." 

"Where's  that?" 

"That's  the  hotel  that  Uncle  William  goes  to  near  his 
farm.  It's  in  the  town  nearby." 

"It  must  be  a  fine  joint." 

"It's  a  joint  all  right.  It's  filthy.  He  took  me  in  the 
parlor  once  to  wait  for  him  while  he  saw  a  man,  and  it 
looked  as  though  it  had  never  seen  a  broom." 

"We  had  better  look  this  place  over  very  carefully 
and  see  if  it's  any  better." 

Asenath  laughed  in  glee  at  the  comparison. 

"By  the  way,"  said  Harold,  "I  don't  remember  your 
uncle  very  well,  you  know  I  didn't  see  much  of  him  the 
day  I  met  you  at  his  place,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  I  rec- 
ollect him  as  one  who  would  likely  want  to  'see  a  man'." 


THECHOICE  289 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Asenath,  seriously. 

Harold  laughed.  "Why,  that's  an  expression  that's 
used  to  indicate  that  a  man's  going  to  take  a  drink." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  she,  still  seriously,  "I  never 
thought  of  that,  but  I  have  heard  that  uncle  sometimes 
did  that.  Father  told  mother  about  it  one  time  and  she 
was  awful  mad,  but  she  didn't  say  anything." 

She  got  up  from  her  chair  and  went  over  to  the  win- 
dow and  looked  out  on  the  mass  of  buildings.  Off  to  the 
west,  she  saw  the  Hudson  River,  and,  on  the  other  side, 
the  Palisades,  behind  which  the  sun  was  setting  in  a  sky 
of  splendor. 

"Isn't  it  beautiful,"  she  said,  much  impressed.  Harold 
came  to  her  side  and  put  his  arm  about  her.  He  recog- 
nized her  sensibility  to  beauty  and  was  deeply  content 
with  her.  What  a  rare  personality  was  hers,  how  per- 
fectly natural  was  her  taste  for  the  really  beautiful.  He 
wondered  that  the  child  of  so  prosaic  a  pair  should  be 
so  gifted. 

Silently  they  watched  the  slowly  changing  sky  until 
the  last  color  had  faded  from  it.  Then  they  turned  back 
into  the  room.  Harold  switched  on  the  lights,  and  once 
more  they  were  in  the  practical  world. 

" Do  you  know  what  we're  going  to  do  this  evening?" 
he  said,  and  then,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  went 
on:  "We're  going  to  the  theatre.  David  Warfield's  here 
in  'The  Music  Master.'  Everybody  says  it's  fine.  How 
does  that  strike  you?" 


290  THE    CHOICE 

"Great,"  said  she,  delighted. 

"This  will  be  the  first  play  you've  ever  seen,  won't  it?  " 

"Yes." 

"I'll  run  down  into  the  lobby  and  get  the  seats  while 
you  begin  dressing.  Put  on  your  glad  rags.  I'll  be  back 
in  a  few  minutes." 

He  kissed  her  and  went  off,  to  return  in  about  ten 
minutes. 

"  Whodoyou  thinklmet  down  in  the  lobby?  "he  asked. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered.  "Tell  me." 

"Wallace  Graham." 

"I  don't  know  him." 

"Yes  you  do.  Don't  you  remember?  He  was  with  me 
on  that  motoring  trip  last  year.  He  was  at  your  uncle's 
farm  when  I  was  there." 

"Oh!  Yes,  I  remember  now.  But  I  had  forgotten  his 
name." 

"He's  here  with  his  wife.  I  knocked  him  all  in  a  heap 
when  I  told  him  I  was  married  and  to  whom.  They're 
stopping  at  this  hotel.  I've  arranged  to  meet  them  after 
the  show.  Do  you  mind?" 

"Not  at  all,"  she  answered.  She  was  glad  to  meet  any 
of  his  friends.  To  be  introduced  as  Harold's  wife  was  a 
source  of  the  greatest  pride.  She  felt  that  everyone  must 
share  her  admiration  of  his  great  qualities,  and  what 
she  took  as  a  public  recognition  that  she  had  been 
thought  worthy  of  such  a  paragon  was  the  most  satis- 
fying compliment  she  could  possibly  imagine. 


THE    CHOICE  291 

When  they  entered  the  brilliantly  lighted  restaurant 
of  the  hotel,  both  of  them  were  conscious  that  Asenath's 
beauty  imposed  itself  upon  many  of  the  diners.  Harold 
was  amused  at  his  own  satisfaction  at  this  homage.  He 
knew  that  he  would  be  quite  ready  to  disclaim  any 
interest  in  what  anyone  might  think  about  such  a  mat- 
ter, but  yet  he  knew  that  he  was  proud  to  escort  so 
beautiful  a  girl,  and  was  pleased  at  the  general  recogni- 
tion of  her  beauty.  Asenath's  emotion  was  very  simple. 
She  was  delighted.  The  public  approval  was  the  sweetest 
incense  in  her  nostrils,  but  she  gave  no  sign  of  having 
perceived  the  interest  she  excited  and  followed  the 
head  waiter  with  as  little  appearance  of  self -conscious- 
ness as  could  possibly  be  imagined. 

Halfway  through  their  rather  simple  dinner,  Graham 
came  to  their  table.  Harold  saw  him  approaching  and 
told  Asenath.  It  was  not  necessary,  however,  to  prepare 
her,  for  she  recognized  him  at  almost  the  same  moment. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Larned,"  said  Graham.  "You 
and  Hal  have  given  me  quite  a  surprise." 

"It  was  rather  sudden,"  said  Asenath.  She  was  con- 
scious that  Graham  was  taking  her  hi  from  head  to 
foot  and  she  knew  that  his  impression  was  favorable. 

"Sudden!  I  should  say  it  was.  I  never  had  such  a 
jolt  in  all  my  life." 

"You're  married,  too,  aren't  you?"  said  Asenath. 

"Oh!  That's  an  old  story  now.  We're  an  old  married 
couple.  Nearly  six  months.  We're  going  to  meet  you 


292  THE    CHOICE 

after  the  show,  you  know.  Mrs.  Graham's  awfully 
anxious  to  know  you.  She  always  was  kind  of  soft  on 
Hal  until  I  stepped  in  and  cut  him  out." 

Asenath  took  this  quite  seriously  but  gave  no  sign. 
Instead,  she  wore  her  usual  charming  smile  of  interested 
attention. 

"Don't  you  believe  him,"  put  in  Harold. "  Wally  never 
could  have  cut  me  out  if  I'd  had  any  chance  at  all. 
Louise,  that's  Mrs.  Graham,  couldn't  see  me  at  all." 

Asenath  made  a  mental  note  to  ask  an  explanation 
later.  She  was  very  curious  as  to  Harold's  friends,  par- 
ticularly those  of  the  opposite  sex,  but  had  never  been 
able  to  get  much  information  from  him.  He  always 
declared  that  none  of  them  had  ever  interested  him 
enough  to  enable  him  to  remember  much  about  them. 
It  was  quite  true. 

Graham  remained  only  a  minute  altogether.  When 
he  left,  he  said: 

"Well,  I'm  sure  I  wish  you  much  joy,  Mrs.  Larned. 
And  I  believe  you'll  have  it.  Hal's  one  of  the  best  fellows 
on  earth." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Asenath.  She  was  delighted.  Ah! 
This  was  life  indeed,  to  meet  people  like  Wallace  Graham 
on  a  footing  of  easy  familiarity  under  circumstances  like 
these.  She  glanced  about  the  room,  with  every  table 
occupied  by  men  and  women  in  evening  dress,  with  the 
deft  waiters  moving  quickly  over  the  thick,  soft  carpet. 
Everything  bespoke  luxury,  elegance,  and,  to  her,  refine- 


THE    CHOICE  293 

ment.  She  noted  the  fine  tone  of  the  decoration,  the 
richness  of  the  linens,  the  tableware.  Every  detail  fitted 
perfectly  into  the  general  scheme,  but  her  eye  was  quick 
to  recognize  each  individual  point  and  her  interest  stored 
it  in  her  memory. 

"Shall  we  walk  to  the  theatre?"  asked  Harold  when 
they  had  finished.  "It's  only  a  few  blocks." 

"Whatever  you  like,"  she  answered. 

They  went  out  into  the  brilliantly  lighted  street 
thronged  with  pedestrians,  with  automobiles  moving  in 
a  steady  stream  in  both  directions.  As  they  walked 
slowly  along  the  pavement,  Asenath  saw  more  types 
than  she  had  ever  imagined  could  be  brought  together  in 
one  city.  Every  condition  in  life  seemed  to  be  repre- 
sented, from  those  in  evening  dress  to  the  beggar  in 
tatters.  She  breathed  deeply,  exhilarated  by  the  very 
intensity  of  the  life  she  saw  about  her.  She  was  gay, 
happy,  contented  beyond  measure. 

The  theatre  seemed  a  wonderful  place  to  her,  and  the 
play,  from  its  very  beginning,  possessed  her.  To  her  it 
was  real;  she  entered  fully  into  the  emotions  portrayed 
by  the  actors,  particularly  those  of  the  central  character. 
When  the  little  musical  piece,  supposed  to  have  been 
composed  by  him,  was  played,  its  beauty  so  over- 
powered her  that  she  was  no  longer  conscious  of  her 
personality  as  an  auditor,  she  simply  lived  in  the  play. 

The  intermission  between  the  acts  came  as  a  shock, 
and  it  took  the  best  part  of  a  minute  for  her  to  come 


294  THE    CHOICE 

back  to  herself.  Harold  spoke  to  her,  but  she  scarcely 
heard  what  he  said. 

When  the  curtain  descended  on  the  happy  ending,  she 
sat  silent,  still  enthralled  by  what  she  had  experienced. 
Harold  stood  up  and  picked  up  her  wrap.  Almost  in  a 
dream,  she  arose,  put  it  on  and  followed  him  to  the 
street. 

"How  did  you  like  it?"  he  asked. 

"Oh!  It  was  beautiful.  I'm  so  glad  it  came  out  all 
right." 

"It  was  all  real  to  you,  wasn't  it?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  and  it  seems  real  yet.  How  can  a  man  like 
Warfield  do  that  every  night?  I'd  think  it  would  kill 
him  to  go  through  all  of  that  so  often." 

"  I  don't  imagine  he  feels  about  it  the  way  you  think. 
You  know  it's  only  acting." 

Asenath  was  silent.  She  feared  that  she  was  treading 
on  dangerous  ground.  She  felt  that  Harold  did  not  look 
at  the  play  as  she  had  seen  it;  that  it  had  not  gripped 
him  as  it  had  her.  She  would  ask  him  about  it  later. 

They  met  the  Grahams  at  one  of  the  fashionable 
cafes.  Asenath  was  immediately  aware  of  a  well- 
concealed  hostility  towards  her  on  the  part  of  Louise 
Graham.  She  could  have  stated  no  reason  whatever  for 
her  conviction  as  to  the  existence  of  this  attitude,  but 
she  knew  it  was  there.  Louise's  manner  towards  her 
was  perfection.  She  was  neither  over-formal  nor 
reserved.  On  the  contrary  she  was  tactful  and  showed 


THE     CHOICE  295 

apparently  the  greatest  amiability  and  interest.  She 
was  the  daughter  of  a  man  of  great  wealth;  had  always 
been  surrounded  by  people  of  culture;  had  been  really 
educated  both  at  home  and  in  fine  schools;  had  read 
much  and,  for  so  young  a  woman,  had  thought  much. 
She  talked  well,  was  perfectly  mistress  of  herself  and 
indicated  her  quality  in  every  word  and  action. 

She  had  an  expression  of  great  intelligence,  which 
lent  charm  to  her  rather  plain  face.  She  was  distinctly 
not  homely,  but  her  features  were  irregular;  her  nose 
was  too  small  for  her  large  mouth  and  her  chin  was 
too  long.  She  was  dark,  of  rather  less  than  medium 
height,  slender  without  being  thin,  had  good  hands 
and  feet.  She  dressed  well  and  wore  her  clothes  with 
distinction.  Asenath  took  in  all  of  this  almost  at  a 
glance,  and  Louise  did  as  much  for  her. 

They  ordered  some  light  refreshments  and  began  a 
rather  flippant  conversation  devoted  mainly  to  persons 
of  their  acquaintance.  This  left  Asenath  out  of  it  for 
the  most  part,  but  Harold  explained  to  her,  from  time 
to  time,  who  the  people  were  whom  they  were  discuss- 
ing, so  that  she  might  not  feel  herself  outside  of  the 
group,  and,  really,  she  enjoyed  herself  thoroughly. 

But  this  sort  of  talk  has  its  limits,  and,  after  about 
fifteen  minutes  of  it,  Louise  asked  Harold  how  he  had 
enjoyed  the  play.  Actually,  while  he  had  enjoyed 
Warfield's  fine  character  work,  he  had  found  the  play 
artificial,  untrue  to  life,  and,  in  many  respects,  cheaply 


296  THE    CHOICE 

melodramatic.  But  he  remembered  Asenath's  unso- 
phisticated delight  in  it  and  did  not  wish  to  destroy 
her  illusion. 

"It  was  nice,"  he  said.  "I  think  Warfield  is  partic- 
ularly good.  So  good,  in  fact,  that  I  believe  he  might 
shine  in  a  more  serious  role." 

"Oh!  Warfield  is  fine,"  she  answered,  "but  I'm  inter- 
ested in  what  you  thought  of  the  play  itself." 

"Without  Warfield,"  said  Harold,  "I  suppose  there 
wouldn't  be  anything  to  it  at  all.  But  with  him  the 
play  strikes  a  popular  note  and  therefore  it  must  have 
some  merit,  even  though  it's  one  which  doesn't  appear 
to  us." 

"I  think  it's  a  bad  play,"  said  Louise,  "because  it's 
not  true  to  life.  It's  hackneyed;  all  of  the  worn-out 
claptrap  of  the  stage  is  used.  And  for  what  purpose? 
Is  there  any  lesson  in  it?  Is  there  any  food  for 
thought?" 

"What  you  say  is  quite  true,"  agreed  Harold.  Se 
saw  that  Asenath  was  listening  to  the  words,  but 
without  comprehension.  He  felt  that  the  conversation 
was  slipping  away  from  her  and  was  somewhat  troubled. 
He  wished  her  to  have  a  perfectly  delightful  evening; 
he  wanted  to  have  no  flaw  of  any  kind  in  their  honey- 
moon, her  education  might  come  later.  With  her  good 
mind,  that  would  be  easy.  He  went  on:  "But  why 
quarrel  with  the  public  taste?  The  public  has  a  right 
to  choose  its  own  amusements,  certainly  if  they're  not 


THE    CHOICE  297 

harmful.  What  are  you  folks  going  to  do  tomorrow? 
Have  you  any  engagements?" 

"Just  wait  a  minute,"  said  Louise,  "we'll  talk  of  that 
directly.  But  first,  I  want  to  answer  what  you  said 
about  the  public  taste.  I  don't  agree  with  you  at  all. 
The  public  shouldn't  be  allowed  to  stupefy  itself  with 
sickly  sentimentality  of  the  sort  that  this  play  and 
many  others  simply  reek  with.  At  least,  that's  my 
opinion.  Don't  you  agree  with  me,  Mrs.  Lamed?" 

Harold  was  most  uncomfortable.  He  found  himself 
excited,  anxious.  He  was  afraid  that  Asenath  would  be 
embarrassed,  would  feel  shame  at  her  inability  to 
understand  the  tendency  of  the  discussion.  He  was 
sorry  that  he  had  consented  to  meet  the  Grahams. 
He  knew  that  Louise  was  something  of  a  blue-stocking, 
but  he  had  thought  that  her  good  taste  would  have 
kept  her  from  putting  Asenath  in  a  false  position.  All 
of  his  anxiety  sprang  from  self-consciousness,  from  a 
form  of  vanity,  but  naturally,  he  did  not  recognize  it. 

Asenath  did  not  answer  immediately.  There  was  a 
pause  of  perhaps  five  seconds  before  she  said: 

"I  don't  know.  I  never  saw  a  play  before.  I  thought 
it  was  lovely." 

Harold  was  greatly  pleased  by  her  answer,  with  its 
utter  lack  of  affectation  of  any  sort.  She  was  sincere  and 
true  and  she  had  a  good  mind.  She  would  learn,  and 
then,  let  the  others  look  out. 

The  conversation  turned  to  other  subjects.  Asenath 


298  THECHOICE 

had  not  much  part  in  it  but  enjoyed  it  nevertheless. 
The  party  separated  shortly  past  midnight  after  arrang- 
ing for  an  automobile  trip  through  the  park  and  into 
the  country  for  the  following  afternoon.  The  next  day 
being  Sunday,  the  variety  of  entertainment  at  their 
command  was  somewhat  limited. 

When  they  were  again  in  their  room  at  the  hotel, 
Harold  sat  down  in  the  armchair  while  Asenath  took 
off  her  wrap  and  hung  it  carefully  in  the  closet. 

"How  did  you  enjoy  the  evening?"  he  asked. 

"It  was  lovely,"  she  answered.  "I've  never  had  a 
better  time." 

"How  did  you  like  Louise?" 

"I  don't  know.  She's  awfully  smart,  isn't  she?" 

"She's  very  clever,  and  very  well  educated,  too." 

"I  felt  like  a  dummy  sitting  there  while  she  was 
talking  about  the  play.  I  wanted  to  tell  her  what  I 
thought  about  it  but  I  just  couldn't." 

"Why  couldn't  you?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  just  couldn't  say  a  word." 

"Well,  what  you  did  say  when  she  asked  you  was 
all  right.  It  was  honest  and  straightforward.  You 
didn't  pretend  that  you  had  any  opinion.  I  was  de- 
lighted." 

Asenath  glowed  with  pleasure.  After  a  short  pause, 
she  said: 

"She  don't  like  me." 

"What  makes  you  think  that?" 


THE    CHOICE  299 

"I  just  know  she  don't." 

"But  how  do  you  know?" 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  I  know  it,  but  it's  true  just  the 
same." 

"Feminine  intuition,  I  suppose." 

She  did  not  answer,  but  came  and  sat  on  the  arm  of 
his  chair.  He  took  her  hand  and  stroked  it.  Presently 
she  leaned  over  and  kissed  him,  a  long,  intense  kiss. 
Then  she  began  to  stroke  his  hair. 

"Dearie,"  she  said,  "I  want  to  ask  you  something." 

"What  is  it?" 

"You  won't  mind  what  I  say.  Will  you?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"Are  you  very  rich?" 

"Lord!  No.  What  put  that  in  your  head?" 

"Well,  I  was  thinking  of  the  lot  of  money  we're 
spending  on  this  trip,  and  I  wondered  whether  you 
were  rich." 

"I  see.  You  think  I'm  extravagant?" 

"No;  I  wasn't  thinking  of  that." 

"What  were  you  thinking  of?" 

"I  was  thinking  of  how  different  I  am  from  when  I 
was  engaged  to  Jim." 

"What  has  that  got  to  do  with  it?" 

"Why,  when  I  was  engaged  to  him,  all  I  thought 
about  was  what  he  could  give  me,  a  fine  house,  and 
servants,  and  dresses  and  an  automobile  and  all  that, 
but  with  you — ,"  she  paused. 


300  THE    CHOICE 

"Go  on,"  he  said. 

"Well,  with  you,"  she  resumed  slowly,  "all  I  want  is 
you.  I  wouldn't  care  what  else  happened  to  me  so  long 
as  I  had  you."  And  she  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck 
and  clung  to  him. 

Harold  was  moved  as  never  before.  He  was  exalted, 
and  as  he  clasped  her  in  a  tight  embrace,  he  humbly 
hoped  that  he  might  always  deserve  her  complete 
devotion. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

THE  rest  of  their  visit  to  New  York  was  most 
delightful  to  both  of  them.    To  Asenath,  every- 
thing was  new,  one  long  train  of  joyful  experi- 
ences, while  Harold  enjoyed  not  only  what  they  did 
but  her  pleasure  even  more.  They  went  again  to  the 
theatre,  to  the  opera,  which  Asenath  enjoyed  more 
than  anything  else,  and  to  a  concert  or  two.  They 
walked,  drove,  ate  at  all  sorts  of  restaurants. 

But,  in  spite  of  the  constant  novelty,  and  notwith- 
standing her  enjoyment  of  every  moment  of  their  trip, 
Asenath  was  more  than  willing  to  come  home  at  the 
end  of  the  week.  She  disclaimed  being  tired,  and 
physically  she  was  not  so,  but  mentally  she  was.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  it  would  be  the  finest  thing  imagin- 
able to  have  Harold  with  her  in  their  own  rooms  with 
no  thought  of  the  outside  world. 

And  when  they  came  into  their  rooms  they  found  a 
delightful  surprise  awaiting  them.  They  had  been 
completely  refurnished  in  every  detail.  Asenath  saw 
now,  why,  during  their  shopping  expedition,  Mrs. 
Larned  had  questioned  her  so  closely  regarding  her 
taste  in  furnishings.  It  seemed  to  her  that  a  more 
beautiful  arrangement  could  not  be  possible.  So  much 
moved  was  she  by  this  fresh  evidence  of  the  generous 
affection  which  was  offered  her  that  she  could  do 

301 


302  THE    CHOICE 

nothing  but  go  to  her  mother-in-law  and,  putting  her 
arms  about  her,  kiss  her  on  the  mouth. 

"You're  so  good  to  me,"  was  all  she  could  say. 

Their  life  was  again  what  it  had  been  for  the  two 
weeks  before  their  honeymoon  trip.  Harold  went  to 
work  at  his  usual  hour,  Asenath  always  accompanying 
him  to  the  car.  When  she  returned,  she  would  do  some 
housework,  go  out,  perhaps  to  see  her  mother,  or  read, 
or  any  one  of  quite  a  number  of  things. 

The  first  Monday  morning  after  their  return  from 
New  York,  Mrs.  Lamed  said  to  her: 

"Asenathj  my  dear,  I'm  delighted  that  you  are  so 
much  pleased  with  your  rooms.  I  want  you  to  consider 
them  as  your  particular  home.  The  rest  of  the  house 
is  for  all  of  us,  but  your  rooms  are  your  own.  I  know 
you'll  want  to  take  care  of  them  yourself.  You  can  dress 
the  beds  and  do  the  dusting  every  day.  Once  a  week 
they  ought  to  be  cleaned  thoroughly  and  then  you 
can  have  Mrs.  Murray,  the  cleaning  woman,  to  help 
you.  What  do  you  think  of  that  arrangement?" 

"I  think  it's  fine,"  she  answered. 

For  several  weeks  Asenath  followed  this  programme 
assiduously.  She  took  a  great  pride  in  their  rooms  and 
was  most  particular  at  first  to  keep  everything  spotless. 
Gradually,  however,  the  novelty  wore  off,  and  she 
became  rather  careless.  One  afternoon,  when  she  had 
called  to  Mrs.  Lamed  to  come  up  to  look  at  something 
or  other,  it  was  quite  apparent  that  the  room  had  not 


THE    CHOICE  303 

been  dusted,  and  Mrs.  Lamed  was  quick  to  perceive 
it.  She  also  noted  that  Asenath's  clothes  closet  was  in 
great  disorder. 

After  a  little  thought,  she  decided  to  speak  to  Asenath 
about  it,  and  did  so  with  the  utmost  kindness,  with  no 
shade  of  reproof  in  her  tone  or  words.  Asenath  did  not 
show  the  annoyance  she  felt,  but  she  did  feel  it  keenly. 
She  admitted  that  she  was  at  fault  and  promised  to  do 
better  in  the  future. 

For  a  few  weeks  she  was  again  very  particular  in  the 
care  of  her  rooms  and  then  she  began  anew  to  lessen  her 
efforts,  with  the  result  that  the  disorder  of  her  closets  and 
drawers  was  worse  than  ever.  The  one  thing  about  which 
she  was  particular  was  Harold's  clothes  closet  and  chiffo- 
nier. But  that  was  for  him;  for  herself,  it  did  not'  matter. 

Mrs.  Lamed  had  gone  up  to  Asenath's  rooms  several 
times  after  she  had  called  her  attention  to  the  lack  of 
orderliness.  She  had  been  reassured  at  first,  but  as  time 
went  on  and  the  slovenliness  returned,  she  was  grieved, 
but  resolved  to  say  nothing.  At  one  time  when  she  was 
in  the  rooms,  it  was  in  the  evening  and  the  whole  family 
was  there,  her  eyes  had  unconsciously  followed  Asenath, 
as  she  opened  the  door  of  her  closet  for  some  purpose  or 
other,  and  noted  the  disorder  within.  Asenath  saw  her 
glance  and  reddened  as  much  with  anger  as  with  shame. 

After  the  older  Larneds  had  gone  and  Harold  and 
Asenath  were  making  ready  to  retire,  she  came  over  to 
him  and  said : 


304  THECHOICE 

"Dearie,  will  you  do  something  for  me'?" 

"Certainly,  what  is  it?" 

"I  don't  want  to  live  here  any  more.  Can't  we  have 
a  house  of  our  own?" 

"What's  the  matter  with  this?" 

"  I  wouldn't  care  how  little  it  was,  or  where  it  was, 
even  if  it  was  on  a  back  street,  only  so  that  it  would  be 
just  yours  and  mine  with  nobody  else  in  it." 

"You  surely  don't  object  to  anyone  in  this  house,  do 
you?" 

"No;  but—" 

"But  what?" 

"Oh!  Don't  ask  me  any  question,  dearie,  please." 

"Asenath,  something's  wrong  and  I  want  to  know 
what  it  is." 

"Please  don't  ask  me.  I'm  sorry  I  said  anything." 

"But  I  want  to  know."  He  was  becoming  somewhat 
angry,  although  he  maintained  an  even  voice  and  raised 
it  only  slightly.  "You  must  tell  me." 

"  I'm  not  satisfied  here."  She  was  almost  on  the  verge 
of  tears. 

"I  want  to  know  what's  wrong,"  he  said  firmly.  "Tell 
me  why  you're  not  satisfied.  I  insist." 

"Your  mother's  always  picking  on  me,"  she  said.  The 
tears  were  already  in  her  eyes  and  there  was  a  promise 
of  more  to  come. 

"  My  mother! — picking  on  you?  What  do  you  mean? 
You  must  tell  me  exactly  what  she  said.  Do  you  hear? 


THE    CHOICE  305 

he  continued,  as  Asenath  did  not  answer  but  instead 
gave  herself  up  to  silent  weeping. 

"Asenath,"  he  said,  quite  loudly  now,  "stop  that 
crying  and  tell  me  what  my  mother  found  fault  with." 

But  her  only  answer  was  more  tears.  She  was  now 
sobbing,  and  Harold,  who  had  had  practically  no  expe- 
rience of  women's  tears,  had  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling, 
a  sudden  return  of  tenderness  towards  her  to  whom,  but 
a  moment  before,  he  had  been  so  stern.  After  all,  she 
was  only  a  child,  and  she  would  have  told  him  in  due 
course  without  compulsion.  He  took  her  in  his  arms  and 
tried  to  soothe  her. 

"  Don't  cry,  my  dear,  please  don't  cry,"  he  said.  "  You 
may  tell  me  or  not,  just  as  you  please.  I'm  sorry  I  spoke 
so  roughly  to  you.  Please  forgive  me." 

"Oh!  Pm  a  wicked  girl,"  she  said  at  last,  through  her 
tears. 

"Wicked?  What  do  you  mean?" 

But  the  only  answer  was  a  new  flood  of  tears  which, 
while  copious,  was  soon  over.  When  she  was  quieter, 
he  asked  her: 

"What  makes  you  say  you  are  a  wicked  girl?" 

"Your  mother  don't  like  the  way  I  keep  our  rooms 
and  I  don't  keep  them  right.  I'm  a  lazy,  good-for-noth- 
ing girl.  I  wish  I  was  dead.  Pm  no  good  to  anybody." 
Again  she  gave  herself  up  to  weeping. 

By  this  time  Harold  had  learned  that  he  would  gain 
more  by  waiting  than  urging,  and  so  made  no  effort  to 


306  THE    CHOICE 

induce  her  to  speak.  Instead  he  stroked  her  hair,  and, 
presently,  he  was  rewarded  for  his  patience. 

"Aren't  you  ashamed  of  me?"  she  asked. 

"No,  my  dear,  not  at  all.  Has  my  mother  complained 
to  you  about  the  way  you  keep  our  rooms?  " 

"No,  she  spoke  to  me  once  and  I  did  them  better  for 
a  while,  but  this  evening  when  she  and  father  were  up 
here  she  watched  me  when  I  went  to  the  closet  and  she 
saw  how  sloppy  it  was,  and  I  was  so  ashamed  that  I 
wanted  to  run  away." 

"That's  very  foolish,"  said  Harold,  kindly. 

"I  know  it  is,"  she  answered,  "but  Oh!  Harold,  can't 
we  have  our  own  house  some  time?" 

"Some  time,  but  not  just  now.  I  want  to  save  some 
money  first.  Besides,  it  wouldn't  look  right  if  we  went 
so  soon  after  the  folks  went  to  all  the  trouble  to  fix  up 
these  rooms." 

"That's  so,"  she  agreed.  "It  would  be  horrid.  Please 
forget  how  silly  I  was,  and  how  mean,"  she  added. 

"Are  you  sure  that  that's  all?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  your  mother  has  been  just  lovely  to  me.  I 
don't  know  what  got  into  me.  I  must  have  been  crazy. 
You  don't  hate  me,  do  you?" 

"Hate  you?  I  guess  not,"  and  again  he  took  her  in  his 
arms.  But  this  time  she  was  smiling  and  happy  in  his 
love. 

Mrs.  Larned  had  noted  Asenath's  rise  in  color  when 
she  saw  thatthe  disorder  in  her  closet  had  been  observed. 


THECHOICE  307 

She  was  shrewd  enough  to  guess  that  shame  was  not  the 
only  emotion  which  her  daughter-in-law  felt.  She  dreaded, 
above  all  things,  any  false  relationships  in  her  family 
and  felt  that  even  this  comparatively  trivial  thing  was 
ground  for  sufficient  friction  between  them  to  make  their 
separation  advisable.  She  thought  of  the  matter  during 
the  following  day,  and,  in  the  evening,  when  they  were 
together  alone,  she  spoke  to  her  husband. 

"I  think,"  she  said,  "that  Harold  and  Asenath  ought 
to  have  a  house  of  their  own." 

"Why?  They  seem  perfectly  contented  here,  and  it's 
fine  to  have  them." 

"There  are  several  reasons.  In  the  first  place,  as  a 
general  rule,  two  families  should  not  live  together.  There 
must  be  some  friction,  and,  in  the  second,  Asenath  is 
entitled  to  be  mistress  of  her  own  household.  Here  she 
has  to  be  second  fiddle." 

"  That  disposes  of  the  general  principles.  Now  tell  me 
just  what's  the  matter." 

"To  be  perfectly  frank,  our  daughter-in-law,  while  she 
is  most  fastidious  about  every  item  of  her  toilet  and 
dress,  is  somewhat  slovenly  as  a  housekeeper.  Her  rooms 
are  very  untidy.  In  fact,  they're  not  strictly  clean." 

"Have  you  spoken  about  it  to  her?" 

"Once.  And  I'll  not  do  it  again." 

"Why  not?  She's  young  enough  to  be  taught,  isn't 
she?" 

"Yes,  quite  young  enough.  But  not  by  me.  I  want 


308  THECHOICE 

her  affection.  I  don't  want  to  come  in  between  her  and 
Harold  and  I  certainly  don't  want  her  to  come  between 
him  and  me.  When  she's  in  her  own  house,  she  can  work 
out  her  own  salvation.  Here  there  would  surely  be 
friction." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"No.  I'm  afraid  that  she's  rather  spoiled  in  one 
respect.  She  has  been  used  to  having  her  mother  wait  on 
her  and  she's  quite  ready  to  have  me  do  the  same.  If 
we're  together  and  I  want  something  and  announce  that 
I'm  going  to  get  it,  she's  always  quite  willing  to  let  me, 
she  never  offers  to  put  herself  out.  It's  quite  thoughtless, 
I  suppose,  and  she's  only  a  child,  but  I'm  afraid  that 
she'll  reqai/e  her  own  experience  to  bring  out  the  best 
in  her.  Nobody  can  do  it  for  her." 

"I  see.  Harold's  salary  isn't  much,  but  I  guess  they 
could  manage." 

"Couldn't  we  help  them?" 

"Yes,  when  they  start  we -can  make  them  a  substan- 
tial present." 

"Will  you  speak  to  Harold  about  it?  Not  too  soon. 
In  a  week  or  two." 

"Yes.  You  don't  want  it  to  come  too  suddenly." 

About  ten  days  later,  Mr.  Lamed  came  to  Harold 
one  evening  and  told  him  that  they  had  been  consider- 
ing making  him  a  suitable  wedding  present  ever  since 
his  marriage  but  had  not  been  able  to  decide  until  that  day. 

"We've  come  to  the  conclusion  that  you  and  Asenath 


THE    CHOICE  309 

ought  to  set  up  for  yourselves,  and  we're  going  to  start 
you  right  by  giving  you  five  thousand  dollars.  With  that, 
you  can  own  a  respectable  equity  in  a  nice  little  house 
and  still  have  enough  to  furnish  it.  We  think  that  it  is 
only  fair  for  you  to  have  your  own  place,  fair  for  both 
of  you." 

"But  you're  far  too  generous,"  cried  Harold.  "That's 
a  young  fortune." 

"How  could  we  be  too  generous  to  you,  my  dear  boy? 
Some  day  everything  we  have  will  be  yours." 

"Oh!  I  know  that,  but  that's  a  long  way  off." 

"It  will  be  hard  at  first  not  to  have  you  here.  I'll 
miss  you  tremendously.  You  won't  mind  having  me  for 
a  constant  visitor?" 

All  Harold  could  do  was  to  grasp  his  father's  hand  in 
mute  thanks.  Any  phrase  would  have  sounded  empty 
to  him.  He  looked  his  father  in  the  eye  and  saw  tears 
there,  tears  of  affectionate  emotion. 

"I'll  run  and  tell  Asenath,"  said  Harold,  and  off  he 
went. 

Asenath  was  wild  with  excitement.  She  did  not  sus- 
pect for  a  moment  the  real  reason  behind  the  gift. 
Indeed  she  had  almost  forgotten  that  she  had  ever 
said  she  wanted  a  house  of  her  own.  At  any  rate,  she 
did  not  connect  this  proposition  with  its  actual  cause. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

BY  the  middle  of  February,  Harold  and  Asenath 
were  settled  in  their  new  house  and  both  of 
them  were  convinced  that  no  human  habitation 
could  compare  with  it  in  any  way.  And  it  was  a  pretty 
little  suburban  house,  with  just  a  bit  of  garden  space 
on  all  sides,  which  they  promised  themselves  they 
would  cultivate  as  soon  as  Spring  came.  The  inside  of 
the  house  was  even  prettier  than  the  outside.  Asenath 's 
first  attempt  at  house  decorating  and  furnishing  was 
voted  most  successful  by  everyone,  particularly  her 
husband.  In  no  way  had  Asenath  ever  shown  so  much 
sense  of  the  appropriate.  The  result  was  striking  in  its 
simplicity,  in  the  delicacy  of  its  coloring,  in  its  avoidance 
of  the  unnecessary.  Asenath  was  quite  ingenuous  in 
her  own  admiration  of  it  and  was  particularly  proud 
of  her  ownership  of  an  upright  piano,  a  present  from 
Harold.  She  expected  to  take  lessons  in  the  fall,  but 
she  did  not  actually  begin  for  several  years. 

It  seemed  to  Harold  that  he  was  now  really  married 
for  the  first  time.  While  they  had  been  living  with  his 
parents,  it  was  only  a  variation,  however  striking  a 
one,  from  his  previous  mode  of  life.  But  this  was  distinct. 
Their  life  had  a  complete  entity  of  its  own.  He  was 
delighted,  happier  than  ever.  He  even  went  so  far  as 
to  admire  all  of  Asenath's  cooking,  which,  to  tell  the 

310 


THE    CHOICE  311 

truth,  represented  progress  rather  than  achievement. 
She  was  learning,  however,  and  her  heart  was  in  it, 
because  it  was  for  Harold.  His  approval  was  the  one 
reward  which  counted. 

In  the  evening,  after  their  simple  dinner,  they  washed 
the  dishes,  put  them  away,  made  all  the  arrangements 
for  their  breakfast,  and  then  discussed  how  they  would 
spend  the  evening.  These  discussions  almost  invariably 
ended  in  their  determining  to  spend  it  at  home.  Gener- 
ally Harold  would  read  to  her,  explaining  as  he  went 
along,  as  he  thought  it  necessary,  or  just  because 
something  in  the  narrative  offered  him  a  suggestion 
upon  which  he  wished  to  expatiate. 

Sometimes  they  would  bundle  up  and  go  for  a  long 
walk.  It  was  an  unusually  cold  winter  and  they  both 
enjoyed  the  clear,  sparkling  nights  under  the  starry 
sky.  They  would  return  from  these  tramps  exhilarated, 
exuberant,  sensing  the  joy  of  living  to  the  full. 

At  rare  intervals  they  went  to  the  theatre  or  to  a  con- 
cert. One  evening  a  week  they  went  to  Harold's  parents' 
house  for  dinner.  Sunday  they  invariably  dined  there. 

Harold  was  so  much  taken  up  with  his  home  life,  he 
was  so  happy  under  his  own  rooftree,  that  he  gave  up 
all  of  his  former  evening  work.  Neither  of  them  had 
any  desire  to  go  out  among  the  people  they  knew, 
their  own  company  was  sufficient.  Once  or  twice  a 
week  Asenath  went  to  see  her  mother.  Her  father  still 
maintained  his  stand  against  her. 


312  THE    CHOICE 

One  evening  Harold  found  last  night's  cigar  stumps 
still  on  the  ash  tray.  He  said  nothing,  but  emptied  it 
himself.  The  next  evening  the  same  thing  occurred, 
and  then  he  began  to  notice  many  little  things  here  and 
there,  accumulations  of  dust,  disorderly  closets,  care- 
lessness in  the  management  of  the  refrigerator. 

It  came  to  him  with  somewhat  of  a  shock  that  Asen- 
ath  was,  to  put  it  mildly,  not  punctilious  in  the  matter 
of  household  cleanliness  and  order.  It  was  something 
which  he  had  simply  taken  for  granted.  All  of  his  life 
he  had  known  nothing  of  housekeeping  in  his  mother's 
house,  things  always  seemed  to  be  as  they  should  be 
without  anyone's  paying  any  particular  attention  to 
it.  In  a  vague  way,  he  knew  that  someone  had  to  see 
that  things  were  done,  but  that  was  all. 

However,  this  was  different.  He  did  not  like  to  find 
fault,  but  he  felt  that  it  would  be  unfair  not  to  be 
perfectly  frank.  So,  one  evening,  after  they  had  finished 
drying  the  dishes  they  had  just  washed,  he  was  about 
to  begin  putting  them  away  when  Asenath,  who  wanted 
to  go  out  walking,  said: 

"Oh!  Just  leave  them.  I'll  put  them  away  in  the 
morning." 

"No,  let's  put  them  away  now,"  he  answered. 

"All  right,"  she  agreed.  Anything  that  Harold 
wanted  was  exactly  the  right  thing. 

After  they  had  finished,  they  went  out.  After  a  short 
silence,  Harold  began: 


THE    CHOICE  313 

"Asenath,  I  want  you  to  promise  that  you'll  take 
what  I  am  going  to  say  in  good  part,  and  not  let  it 
annoy  you." 

"What  is  it?"  she  queried. 

"I'll  tell  you  in  a  minute,  but  first  I  want  to  make 
sure  that  I  am  not  finding  fault  or  complaining.  I 
simply  want  to  tell  you  my  idea  of  something  and  then 
we  can  talk  it  over  quietly." 

"Please,  Harold,  tell  me  what  it  is."  Asenath  was 
becoming  somewhat  apprehensive. 

"Well,  I'd  like  you  to  be  a  little  more  particular 
about  some  things  in  the  house.  I  don't  think  you 
noticed  that,  for  the  last  three  days,  I  have  emptied 
my  ash  tray  every  evening  myself.  And  then — "  he 
went  on  to  mention  several  of  the  lapses  which  had 
come  to  his  notice. 

When  he  had  finished,  he  waited  for  an  answer.  He 
hoped  that  she  would  not  be  angry.  And  she  was  not, 
except  for  anger  with  herself,  a  sense  of  shame.  As  she 
did  not  answer,  he  went  on  in  the  same  considerate 
tone  which  had  marked  his  complaint. 

"If  there's  a  little  too  much  work  for  you,  I'll  be 
glad  to  help.  We  can  talk  it  over  and  decide  just  how 
we'll  arrange  things." 

"Oh!  Harold,"  she  said,  "I've  got  lots  of  time.  I'm 
just  a  plain — I  might  as  well  say  it — a  plain  'slob'  and 
lazy.  I'm  awfully  ashamed,  but  you'll  never  have  a 
chance  to  find  fault  with  me  again  for  that." 


314  THE    CHOICE 

Her  contrition  was  so  open  that  Harold  was  somewhat 
remorseful.  He  wanted  to  make  it  easy  for  her  and 
said: 

"Oh,  I  guess  I'm  too  particular  anyway.  It  wasn't 
much  after  all." 

"No;  I'm  just  a  'slob.'  I  could  walk  by  that  ash 
tray  a  million  times  and  I'd  never  see  that  it  was  dirty 
until  I  was  expecting  company.  But  I'm  going  to 
reform,  you'll  see." 

And  she  did.  For  Harold  anything  was  easy,  nothing 
was  a  trouble.  She  cleaned  her  house,  not  for  the  sake 
of  cleanliness,  but  to  please  him.  And  he  was  pleased, 
even  though  complete  candor  on  his  part  might  have 
compelled  the  admission  that  household  order  was  not 
Asenath's  forte. 

Their  baby  was  expected  about  the  middle  of  Septem- 
ber and,  as  a  consequence,  they  looked  forward  to 
spending  the  entire  summer  at  home.  Before  this 
promise  was  held  out  to  them,  they  had  intended  to 
make  a  trip  to  a  number  of  summer  resorts  during 
Harold's  vacation. 

But  now,  everything  they  thought  of  or  planned  had 
to  take  into  account  this  wonderful  child  that  was  to 
be  born  to  them.  Asenath  was  sure  it  would  be  a  boy, 
although  Harold  told  her  that  she  must  not  make  up 
her  mind  finally  until  she  was  sure  which  she  wanted. 

"But  I  know  what  I  want,"  she  said,  quite  oblivious 
of  his  joke.  "I  want  a  boy." 


THE    CHOICE  315 

"I  suppose  if  it  should  happen  to  be  a  girl  you'd 
return  it,  wouldn't  you?" 

"No,  I  couldn't  do  that,  of  course,  but  it  must  be  a 
boy." 

"All  right,"  he  said,  still  teasing,  "have  it  your  own 
way." 

One  evening  Harold  brought  home  a  book  on  some 
sociological  subject  which  had  been  given  to  him  with 
a  strong  recommendation.  At  the  time,  he  was  reading 
a  story  to  Asenath  in  which  she  was  much  interested. 
After  their  dinner  they  went  into  the  library,  as  they 
called  it,  and  Asenath  got  out  some  part  of  the  layette 
on  which  she  was  engaged  and  made  ready  to  sew, 
expecting  Harold  to  read  to  her  as  usual.  This  evening, 
however,  he  was  anxious  to  read  the  book  he  had 
brought  and  he  asked  if  she  would  mind  if  he  read  that 
instead  of  the  story.  Asenath  complied  immediately. 

So  he  began  reading  aloud.  He  was  much  interested 
and  did  not  notice  that  she  was  not  taking  in  the 
meaning  of  what  she  heard.  Presently,  at  some  fine 
point  made  by  the  writer,  he  said: 

"That's  great,  isn't  it?" 

"What?"  she  asked. 

"That  point  about — ,"  and  then  he  went  on  to  give 
his  view  of  what  he  had  just  read. 

"I  don't  understand  it,"  said  Asenath. 

He  tried  to  explain  it  simply  so  that  she  would  be 
able  to  comprehend  it,  but  it  was  of  no  use.  She  had 


316  THE    CHOICE 

neither  the  knowledge  nor  the  mentality  necessary. 
So  he  said  kindly,  "Well,  I  guess  it's  a  subject  that  you 
wouldn't  find  very  interesting  anyway.  Let's  get  back 
to  the  book  we  were  reading  last  evening.  You  like 
that,  don't  you?" 

"Yes,  but  you  want  to  read  this  new  book.  You  just 
go  on  and  read  it  to  yourself  and  I'll  sit  here  and  sew." 

Harold  did  not  require  coaxing  and  went  on  with  his 
book.  Once  or  twice  Asenath  asked  him  a  question, 
which  he  answered  in  a  few  words,  and  then  went  back 
to  his  reading.  She  was  quite  content.  She  was  with 
him  and  that  was  enough. 

But  the  following  evening  he  again  read  alone  while 
she  sewed  and  the  next  evening  which  they  spent  at 
home  passed  in  the  same  way.  In  a  couple  of  weeks 
he  had  practically  given  up  reading  to  her  and  insen- 
sibly she  lost  what  small  habit  of  reading  she  had  formed 
under  his  encouragement. 

It  was  perfectly  natural.  Although  she  had  enjoyed 
most  of  her  reading,  it  had  been  an  artificially  stim- 
ulated taste  and  owed  more  to  his  interest  in  it  than  her 
own.  Besides,  she  was  busy  with  her  sewing  in  all  of 
her  spare  time  and  the  habit  of  reading  dropped  from 
her  without  her  perceiving  it. 

But  Harold,  released  from  going  through  books  of  a 
kind  which  he  had  long  outgrown,  followed  his  own 
bent  and  kept  himself  occupied  with  literature  for 
which  she  had  neither  taste  nor  equipment. 


THE    CHOICE  317 

During  the  hot  summer  evenings  when  there  was 
little  to  do  except  to  sit  on  the  porch  or  to  take  an 
occasional  walk,  Harold  sometimes  found  the  time 
pass  rather  slowly.  Their  neighbors,  with  some  of  whom 
they  were  on  a  friendly  footing,  rather  bored  him. 
They  were  mostly  dull,  unimaginative  people,  with  no 
thoughts  beyond  the  day's  work  and  their  petty 
amusements:  sports,  cards,  dancing  and  all  sorts  of 
pastimes  which  called  for  neither  knowledge  nor  good 
taste. 

He  began  to  miss  his  teaching,  but  he  could  not  think 
of  leaving  Asenath  alone  in  her  present  condition.  He 
was  as  much  in  love  with  her  as  ever,  really  more  so, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  more  elemental  quality 
of  her  attraction  for  him  was  tempered  both  by  habitua- 
tion  and  the  sense  of  responsibility  which  the  coming 
event  imposed.  He  enjoyed  her  companionship  now 
more  than  ever  because  there  was  in  it  a  sense  of  the 
established,  the  solid,  which  had  been  built  upon  her 
proven  devotion.  The  sight  of  her  upon  his  return  from 
work  always  produced  in  him  a  deep  sense  of  thank- 
fulness. 

But  Harold's  was  a  complex  nature.  His  mind  was  far 
too  active,  his  interests  too  many  and  too  varied  to  per- 
mit him  to  feel  contented  with  affection  only.  He  required 
mental  stimulation.  Rest  for  him  was  a  change  of  occu- 
pation, not  mere  quietude. 

Harold  was  not  what  might  be  called  a  great  reader. 


318  THE    CHOICE 

He  was  fond  of  books  and  got  much  out  of  them.  But 
he  was  neither  a  bookworm  nor  a  student.  His  energy 
was  discharged  in  action.  It  was  necessary  for  him  to  be 
doing  something.  Having  given  up  all  of  his  teaching 
and  his  active  participation  in  the  scientific  societies  of 
which  he  was  a  member,  he  was  practically  reduced  to 
reading  for  the  pleasures  of  the  mind. 

He  was  by  no  means  discontented.  On  the  contrary, 
he  was  very  happy  and  Asenath  had  not  the  remotest 
suspicion  that  there  had  been  any  change  in  him.  In 
fact,  there  had  been  none;  it  was  the  reassertion  of  his 
ordinary  self  that  caused  mere  dalliance  to  cloy  on  him. 
He  jested  with  her  as  always;  he  was  actively  interested 
in  everything  she  had  to  tell  him;  he  enjoyed  watching 
the  development  of  her  ideas  of  life  as  her  horizon 
widened. 

In  August  they  decided  that  they  required  the  serv- 
ices of  a  maid.  "They'*  meant  Harold,  who  had  been 
prompted  by  his  mother.  Mrs.  Larned  arranged  the 
matter  with  Asenath,  but  did  it  so  tactfully  that  the 
young  woman  felt  that  she  had  done  it  herself. 

Asenath  felt  very  important  in  having  a  maid.  At 
first,  she  was  somewhat  diffident  in  the  presence  of  her 
servant,  who,  by  the  way,  was  several  years  older  than 
her  mistress.  But  Asenath  was  an  apt  pupil  in  all  mat- 
ters of  social  usage  and  soon  learned  to  maintain  the 
proper  relation.  She  was  alone  with  her  for  many  hours 
of  the  day  and  relied  upon  her  to  a  great  extent  for 


THE    CHOICE  319 

company.  The  maid  was  a  very  agreeable,  sensible  per- 
son, quite  wise  enough  to  recognize  that  she  had  an 
excellent  position.  With  the  girl  to  do  the  work,  Asenath 
became  more  scrupulous  in  carrying  out  what  she  held 
to  be  Harold's  ideas  of  household  order. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

THE  baby  was  born  at  about  the  expected  time 
and  was  a  fine,  healthy  boy.  Everybody  but 
Asenath  was  surprised  that  her  expectation  had 
been  realized.  Asenath,  however,  took  the  sex  of  the 
child  as  a  matter  of  course.  Everything  connected  with 
thebirthof  thechild  went  as  smoothly  as  possible,  and,  in 
the  prescribed  time,  Asenath  reappeared  on  the  first 
floor,  anxious  for  the  moment  at  which  the  nurse  would 
depart,  so  that  she  might  take  exclusive  care  of  her  baby. 

She  had  never  imagined  that  she  could  be  so  interested 
in  any  child,  even  her  own.  As  to  that,  until  she  knew 
that  she  was  actually  to  bear  a  child,  she  never  had 
thought  about  herself  as  a  mother.  But  now,  only 
Harold  could  hope  to  compete  in  her  affection  with 
"Baby,"  as  they  called  him. 

Asenath  wanted  to  call  the  baby  by  his  father's  name, 
but  Harold  objected.  He  claimed  to  have  a  prejudice 
against  the  "  Jr."  Actually,  he  did  not  like  the  name  of 
Harold,  although  he  had  no  reason  to  offer  for  his  dislike. 
His  refusal  left  the  matter  undecided,  because,  when 
Asenath  asked  him  to  propose  some  other  name,  he 
answered : 

"He's  your  child.  You  name  him." 

Up  to  that  time  they  had  never  discussed  the  matter. 
Harold  had  not  thought  of  it  and  Asenath  had  taken 

320 


THE    CHOICE  321 

it  for  granted  that  the  child  would  bear  its  father's 
name. 

When  Harold  came  home  on  the  evening  of  the  nurse's 
departure,  Asenath  called  to  him  quietly  from  the  head 
of  the  stair  to  come  up,  but  to  be  careful  to  make  no 
noise. 

He  ran  up  lightly  and  followed  Asenath,  who,  with 
her  finger  on  her  lips,  led  the  way  into  their  bedroom 
and  pointed  to  the  cradle  where  the  baby  lay  sleeping. 
As  Harold  stood  there,  regarding  his  child  with  con- 
siderable emotion,  Asenath  came  to  him  and,  putting 
her  arms  around  his  neck,  kissed  him.  Never  before  had 
he  felt  his  marriage  so  deeply.  He  was  pervaded  by  a 
sense  of  great  content,  of  established  peace  with  himself 
and  the  world,  quite  in  contrast  to  the  excitement  in 
which  he  saw  Asenath  and  the  baby  shortly  after  he 
was  born. 

At  first,  the  house  had  seemed  to  belong  to  outsiders. 
The  nurse  presided  and  gave  everyone  orders.  It  had 
seemed  to  him  that  even  the  maid  held  a  position  in  the 
household  superior  to  his.  Afterwards  things  gradually 
approached  the  normal  without  quite  reaching  it.  But 
now,  the  nurse  was  gone  and  it  was  again  their  own  home. 

After  dinner  that  evening  they  were  sitting  together 
in  their  library,  Asenath  engaged  in  some  sewing  and 
Harold  with  a  book  open  before  him,  which,  however, 
he  was  not  reading.  From  time  to  time,  he  made  some 
remark  which  Asenath  answered,  but  their  conversation 


322  THE    CHOICE 

was  not  continuous.  Asenath  had  something  on  her 
mind  and,  presently,  it  appeared. 

"Dearie,"  she  said,  "I've  been  thinking." 

"Thinking  of  what?"  he  asked. 

"I've  been  wondering  if  you  would  be  willing  to  have 
Baby  christened  in  our  church." 

Harold  knew  what  she  meant  but  professed  ignorance. 

"  I  didn't  know  we  had  any  church.  You  surely  don't 
mean  the  Unitarian  Church." 

"  Don't  be  simple.  I  mean  our  old  church,  the  Second 
Presbyterian." 

"Well,  that's  a  pretty  good  church.  I  don't  mind." 

"Do  you  object  to  the  name  Thomas  for  a  boy?" 

Harold  saw  her  point  immediately  but  did  not  let 
her  see  it. 

He  answered: 

"Thomas  is  a  good  name.  I  don't  object  to  it.  But 
why  Thomas?" 

"I  thought,"  said  Asenath  with  some  hesitation, 
"that  it  might  be  a  good  thing,  if  you  didn't  mind,  to 
call  Baby  after  my  father  and  have  him  baptized  at  our 
church.  Maybe  he'd  feel  different  to  me." 

"I  didn't  think  you  cared,"  said  Harold,  quite 
seriously. 

"I  didn't  think  I  did  either,"  she  answered,  "but  I  do. 
I  want  him  to  be  friendly  with  us.  I  don't  want  to  see 
him  often,  but  I'd  like  to  feel  that  he  wasn't  angry  with 
me.  You  understand,  don't  you?" 


THE    CHOICE  323 

"Surely,"  he  answered.  "We'll  call  him  Thomas 
McBride  Lamed.  T.  M.  Lamed.  That  isn't  a  poor- 
sounding  name.  Of  course,  he'll  be  Tom  or  Tommy  to 
everybody,  but  that's  as  good  as  Hal  and  much  better 
than  Harold.  Do  you  really  think  that'll  win  your 
father  over?" 

"  I'm  sure  it  will.  I  was  asking  my  mother  about  it 
today.  She  was  here.  She  thinks  Baby's  getting  prettier 
every  day.  She  thinks  he's  the  image  of  you." 

"That  makes  about  twenty  that  think  he  looks  like 
me  against  about  ten  that  pronounce  him  the  image  of 
you." 

"He  does  look  like  you.  He  don't  look  one  bit  like 
me.  He's  got  your  eyes  for  one  thing." 

And  so  on.  It  was  a  never-ending  topic. 

It  required  only  the  news  of  the  decision  to  name  the 
baby  for  him  to  bring  McBride  to  visit  Asenath.  His 
determination  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  her  had  cost 
him  much  regret.  She  was  his  daughter,  after  all,  and 
the  family  spirit  was  strong  in  all  of  them.  It  was  a  queer 
kind  of  affection,  one  that  offered  so  little  of  the  custom- 
ary manifestation  that  it  was  difficult  to  recognize. 
This,  however,  has  been  mentioned  before  and  there  is 
no  need  to  revert  to  it  except  to  call  attention  to  the 
fact  that  McBride's  pride  was  even  stronger.  Having 
stated  that  he  would  have  no  more  to  do  with  Asenath, 
he  was  bound  to  hold  to  his  determination  until  some 
unusual  propitiation  was  offered.  And  what  was  now 


324  THE    CHOICE 

offered  fully  met  the  requirements.  Not  only  was  the 
baby  to  bear  his  full  name  but  it  was  to  be  christened 
in  his  church. 

McBride  came  the  very  next  evening,  accompanied 
by  his  wife.  She  was  perfectly  happy  in  the  reconcilia- 
tion. She  could  now  come  to  see  Asenath  as  often  as 
she  wished  and  she  could  meet  Harold's  parents.  To  her 
it  was  a  most  brilliant  prospect. 

Harold  met  his  parents-in-law  as  though  there  had 
never  been  anything  but  perfect  good  will  between 
them.  He  was  most  affable.  McBride  was  not  embar- 
rassed, but  appeared  to  be  so.  He  was  a  stiff-necked  indi- 
vidual, and,  on  this  occasion,  was  so  particular  not  to 
be  unfriendly  that  his  manner  was  almost  brusque. 

McBride  had  to  content  himself  with  a  view  of  his 
grandson  in  sleep.  He  pronounced  him  a  fine  baby  and 
remarked  a  resemblance  to  his  own  father,  by  the  way, 
the  ancient  with  the  chin  beard  and  shaven  upper  lip 
whose  portrait  was  one  of  the  principal  adornments  of 
the  McBride  parlor. 

After  the  baby  had  been  viewed,  they  all  went  into  the 
library  and  a  somewhat  desultory  general  conversation 
followed.  McBride  addressed  all  of  his  remarks  to 
Harold,  following  his  usual  custom  of  ignoring  the  ladies 
of  his  family. 

The  only  matter  of  importance  which  they  discussed 
was  the  christening.  It  was  arranged  to  take  place  in 
January,  which  was  the  month  in  which  the  next  com- 


THE    CHOICE  325 

munion  service  would  occur.  It  was  also  arranged  that 
Harold  and  Asenath  were  to  eat  dinner  at  McBrides' 
house  on  that  day  in  order  further  to  solemnize  the 
importance  of  the  event. 

When  these  details  were  all  settled,  McBride  was 
ready  to  go.  For  once,  however,  his  wife  was  not  ready 
with  instant  obedience.  She  was  enjoying  herself  in  the, 
to  her,  elegant  surroundings  of  Asenath's  home  and 
wished  to  prolong  the  pleasure.  It  was  not  quite  half- 
past  eight,  and,  calling  McBride's  attention  to  this  fact, 
she  asked  him  to  wait  a  little  longer.  He  consented, 
whereupon  she  and  Asenath  promptly  disappeared  with 
the  design  of  inspecting  the  layette. 

The  half -hour  of  their  absence  was  a  very  long  period 
for  both  men.  They  had  nothing  whatever  in  common 
which  they  could  discuss,  and,  as  McBride  had  no  skill 
in  making  conversation,  the  burden  of  providing  topics 
fell  upon  Harold.  McBride's  wonted  taciturnity  made 
this  difficult,  for  he  limited  his  share  of  the  conversa- 
tion to  monosyllables  which  immediately  disposed  of 
every  subject  that  was  offered  and,  consequently, 
Harold's  invention  was  put  to  a  severe  test. 

At  last  the  women  returned  and  the  visit  was  over. 
Harold  saw  them  leave  with  great  thankfulness  and 
resolved  inwardly  that  he  would  devote  himself  in 
future  to  avoiding  his  father-in-law.  He  did  not  announce 
his  determination  to  Asenath,  for  her  pleasure  in  the 
visit  was  unmistakable. 


326  THE    CHOICE 

Thomas  McBride  Lamed  went  through  the  first  four 
months  of  his  sojourn  upon  earth  with  the  customary 
joys  and  trials  of  a  perfectly  healthy  baby,  and,  at  the 
end  of  this  time,  attended  his  own  baptism  with  serenity 
if  not  enthusiasm.  Harold  was  bored  and  amused  by 
the  whole  proceeding. 

Not  so  Asenath,  however.  For  her  it  was  immensely 
important  and  most  impressive.  There  was  not  a  spark 
of  real  religious  feeling  in  her,  but  she  enjoyed  the  social 
distinction  which  she  felt  the  event  brought  her.  Here, 
in  the  church  in  which  she  had  been  a  regular  communi- 
cant, where  she  was  known  by  everyone,  her  marriage 
to  a  man  of  fine  family  of  established  position  was  recog- 
nized, and  the  consummation  of  this  marriage,  her  baby, 
was  formally  received.  It  was  a  rare  triumph  for  her,  the 
finest  she  had  ever  known.  She  was  fully  cognizant  of 
the  interest  of  the  majority  of  the  congregation  in  her 
and  her  family  and  she  found  it  altogether  delightful. 

Particularly  did  she  enjoy  meeting  Susan.  That  young 
woman  was  on  the  lookout  for  her,  scenting  a  possible 
social  opportunity.  She  greeted  Asenath  with  an  effusion 
which  was  in  no  way  overdone.  Really,  she  was  very 
glad  to  see  her,  and,  during  their  short  talk,  an  invita- 
tion to  visit  Asenath  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world.  Asenath  was  much  flattered  by  Susan's  obvious 
admiration  and  was  glad  that  she  was  to  be  one  of  their 
dinner  party. 

The  dinner  at  McBrides'  was,  in  her  eyes,  a  fitting 


THECHOICE  327 

end  to  the  joyful  event.  She  helped  her  mother  and 
Susan  both  in  the  service  of  the  meal  and  the  subsequent 
clearing  up.  Mrs.  McBride  protested,  but  feebly.  As  for 
Asenath,  it  was  a  rare  pleasure  to  renew,  as  a  pleasant 
task,  what  compulsion  had  formerly  made  an  onerous 
duty. 

The  visit  came  to  an  end  early  in  the  afternoon  and 
Harold  and  Asenath  returned  to  their  own  home  with 
great  satisfaction.  Harold's  was  due  to  the  fact  that  it 
was  all  over,  and  Asenath's  to  the  formal  resumption  of 
her  place  in  her  own  family. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

AEW  days  later  Harold  chanced  to  meet  one  of 
the  teachers  in  the  night  school  with  which  he 
had  formerly  been  connected.  In  their  short 
talk,  the  proposition  of  Harold's  renewing  the  work 
he  had  given  up  a  year  ago  was  broached  and  was 
received  not  unfavorably.  In  fact,  he  had  several  times 
found  himself  wishing  to  return  to  this  work  and  had 
considered  discussing  the  matter  with  Asenath.  He 
was  conscious  of  unrest,  and,  although  they  now  quite 
frequently  went  out  in  the  evenings  to  the  theatre,  or 
to  the  houses  of  some  of  their  acquaintances,  he  was 
dissatisfied.  What  passed  for  social  pleasure  with  most 
people  bored  him  excessively.  Card  parties  he  would 
have  none  of,  and  dancing  and  small  talk  failed  to  give 
him  any  enjoyment.  There  was  little  offered  in  the 
theatres  which  he  found  worth  either  the  time  or  the 
money  it  cost. 

There  was  no  real  conversation  between  him  and 
Asenath.  She  had  no  taste  for  and  was  utterly  ignorant 
of  the  subjects  which  interested  him  and  they  were 
reduced  to  discussing  the  unimportant  details  of  their 
household,  their  baby  and  the  comparatively  few 
people  with  whom  they  were  both  acquainted.  When 
they  spent  an  evening  together  he  read  some  book 

328 


THE    CHOICE  329 

interesting  to  himself  only,  while  she  sewed  or,  occasion- 
ally, read  some  story  which  caught  her  fancy. 

She  was  perfectly  contented.  She  had  no  taste  for 
the  subjects  which  held  his  attention  and  was  quite 
satisfied  merely  to  be  with  him,  to  feel  his  presence. 
No  suspicion  entered  her  mind  that  he  found  her  less 
interesting  than  before  their  marriage.  A  little  reasoning 
would  have  brought  it  quickly  before  her,  but  Asenath, 
as  has  been  frequently  demonstrated,  was  not  intro- 
spective. The  fact  that,  formerly,  Harold  read  aloud 
for  her  benefit  was  one  thing,  and  that  he  now  read 
almost  invariably  for  his  own  was  another.  There  was 
no  particular  reason  for  her  to  join  them  and  to  con- 
sider their  interrelation,  as  long  as  he  was  there  with 
her,  as  long  as  he  evinced  affection  for  her  and  appeared 
to  be  interested  in  what  she  had  to  say  to  him.  She  had 
had  great  pleasure  in  his  reading  aloud,  but,  if  he 
found  more  enjoyment  in  reading  to  himself,  that  was 
sufficient.  She  accepted  it  without  thought.  It  was  right 
and  she  was  satisfied  because  it  was  his  wish. 

Harold  had  not  discussed  with  Asenath  his  desire 
to  resume  his  teaching  when  he  was  first  conscious  of 
it  because  of  the  baby's  coming.  He  felt  that  it  was  out 
of  the  question  for  him  to  consider  leaving  Asenath 
alone.  But,  as  they  resumed  their  occasional  going 
out  in  the  evening,  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  subject 
might  be  broached.  However,  he  had  not  done  so,  held 
back  by  some  sentiment  which  defied  his  own  analysis. 


330  THECHOICE 

But,  on  the  evening  of  this  day,  he  spoke  to  Asenath 
about  the  matter.  He  told  her  of  his  meeting  and 
dwelt  particularly  on  the  great  need  there  was  for 
teachers  and  the  pressing  demand  which  had  been 
made  on  him.  He  finished  by  saying  that  he  thought 
he  ought  to  do  the  work,  but  did  not  dwell  upon  his 
own  keen  desire  for  it. 

"Are  you  going  to  do  it?"  she  asked. 

"I  think  I  will.  That  is,  if  you're  satisfied." 

"I  don't  like  to  have  you  away  two  evenings  in  the 
week,  but  if  you  think  it's  your  duty,  I'm  willing." 

"I  thought  you'd  feel  that  way  about  it.  It  won't 
be  a  terribly  long  separation  anyway,  for  I'll  be  home 
for  dinner  and  back  again  by  ten-thirty." 

"It'll  seem  long  to  me,"  said  Asenath. 

He  began  the  work  in  the  early  part  of  February.  He 
attacked  it  with  the  zest  of  a  hungry  man.  The  work 
was  most  delightful  to  him,  for  he  loved  to  teach.  It 
was  the  function  for  which  he  was  best  fitted.  His 
contentment,  due  to  his  having  this  outlet  for  his 
energy,  was  so  great  that  it  showed  itself  in  an  increased 
display  of  affection  for  Asenath.  He  was  as  lively  as 
the  proverbial  cricket;  he  jested  with  her  and  indulged 
in  many  of  the  verbal  extravagances  which  delighted 
her.  He  was  thoroughly  happy. 

Asenath  did  not  connect  his  renewed  exuberance 
with  the  resumption  of  his  teaching.  She  merely 
accepted  it  and  was  pleased.  She  made  no  comparisons. 


THE    CHOICE  331 

However,  she  found  Monday  and  Thursday  evenings 
very  long  and  tedious.  She  was  quite  accustomed  to 
his  being  away  for  ten  hours  during  the  day.  She  had 
her  work  to  do,  there  was  the  baby  to  care  for,  she 
exchanged  visits  with  her  mother  and  some  of  her 
acquaintances.  But  the  evening  was  the  crown  of  the 
whole  day.  That  was  the  time  she  spent  with  Harold. 
She  was  contended,  happy  all  day  long,  but  in  the 
evening,  from  the  moment  that  she  heard  his  key  in 
the  lock  of  the  front  door,  she  was  conscious  of  more 
than  contentment.  It  might  almost  be  called  exaltation. 

Susan  came  to  visit  her  one  evening  shortly  after  the 
christening.  They  had  made  no  engagement,  she  merely 
dropped  in.  It  happened  that  Harold  and  Asenath 
were  going  out  this  evening.  However,  Susan  had  come 
very  early,  about  half-past  seven,  and  they  did  not 
intend  leaving  home  until  after  eight.  When  she  left, 
it  was  with  the  promise  to  come  the  following  Monday 
evening  for  dinner,  after  which,  as  they  put  it,  she  and 
Asenath  would  spend  the  evening  "talking  over  old 
times."  Harold  found  Susan  rather  amusing;  she  was 
vivacious,  used  slang  with  great  effect  because  it  was 
her  natural  means  of  expression,  and  was  possessed  of 
a  native  shrewdness  which  enabled  her  to  judge  the 
people  with  whom  she  came  into  contact  with  great 
accuracy. 

Susan  was  much  impressed  by  the  dinner.  It  was  the 
first  time  in  her  life  that  she  had  seen  service  like  this 


332  THE    CHOICE 

and  it  seemed  to  her  wonderfully  elegant.  Although  she 
was  blessed  with  a  good  appetite,  she  ate  very  little, 
because  the  novelty  of  the  experience  excited  her.  She 
had  to  watch  Asenath  to  learn  what  to  do  and,  besides, 
she  had  to  keep  up  her  end  of  the  conversation  with 
Harold,  who  found  her  an  admirable  contender  and 
was  therefore  spurred  on  to  outdo  her  in  friendly 
raillery. 

After  he  had  left,  Asenath  and  Susan  had  a  long  talk 
largely  made  up  of  questions  put  by  Susan  as  to 
Asenath's  life  during  the  last  year.  Susan  also  had 
a  great  deal  to  tell  on  her  own  account.  Finally  she 
asked  Asenath  how  she  and  Harold  spent  their  evenings. 

"We  usually  stay  at  home,"  said  Asenath.  "Harold 
reads  and  I  sew,  and  we  talk." 

"Do  you  do  that  every  night?" 

"Oh!  no.  We  go  out  now  and  then.  We  used  to, 
anyway,  before  Harold  began  to  teach  in  the  night 
school.  Now  we  don't  go  out  at  all  except  to  his  folks' 
house." 

"Don't  you  find  it  awful  dull?" 

"Why!  No.  As  long  as  Harold's  home,  I'm  perfectly 
satisfied." 

"I  should  think  you'd  get  the  willies  always  sticking 
at  home.  Don't  you  ever  want  to  go  out?" 

"I  do  go  out  in  the  daytime  when  I  want  to." 

"Oh!  I  don't  mean  that.  Don't  you  ever  want  to  go 
to  a  show  or  a  dance?" 


THE    CHOICE  333 

"I  wouldn't  mind  going,  if  Harold  wanted  to  go, 
but  he  doesn't  get  any  fun  out  of  going  to  things  like 
that,  so  I  don't  care." 

"See  here,  Queenie,  you're  just  about  twenty,  ain't 
you?  How  many  times  do  you  think  you're  going  to 
live?  Only  once.  You'll  be  young  only  once  and  the 
time  to  have  your  fun  is  now,  when  the  going's  good. 
It'll  be  time  to  settle  down  when  you're  old." 

"I'm  perfectly  satisfied,"  answered  Asenath.  And  she 
meant  it. 

"You  must  be  just  crazy  about  him." 

"I  am.  He's  just  wonderful.  He  don't  have  to  say 
one  word  to  me.  All  I  want  is  just  to  have  him  here 
with  me.  Then  nothing  else  counts." 

"Do  you  think  he  feels  that  way  about  you?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  guess  so." 

"It's  different  with  a  man,  I  guess,"  said  Susan,  after 
a  little  thought.  "If  he  felt  like  you  do,  I  guess  he 
wouldn't  be  willing  to  go  off  twice  a  week  to  that  school 
of  his." 

This  was  a  new  idea  for  Asenath,  something  that 
hadn't  occurred  to  her.  It  gave  her  a  sense  of  injury,  a 
feeling  that  perhaps  her  great  love  for  Harold  was  not 
fully  reciprocated.  She  said  nothing,  but  gazed  medi- 
tatively into  the  fire  which  was  slowly  dying  on  the 
hearth.  After  a  pause,  Susan  broke  the  silence. 

"What  time  does  he  usually  come  home?"  she  asked. 

"About  half-past  ten.  He'll  be  in  any  minute  now." 


334  THE    CHOICE 

They  went  on  with  their  talk,  but  no  longer  with  the 
same  briskness.  The  year  and  more  which  had  passed 
without  their  meeting  had  interposed  a  barrier  between 
them.  Each  had  led  her  own  life  in  widely  removed 
spheres  and  there  was  not  much  with  which  to  bridge 
the  gap.  They  could  talk  of  their  experiences  during 
the  separation,  but,  in  both  cases,  it  was  news  from  a 
foreign  country,  of  no  immediate  concern  to  the  other. 

At  last,  Harold  came  in.  He  was  surprised  to  find 
Susan  still  there,  and  somewhat  annoyed  because  he 
thought  he  might  have  to  take  her  home.  He  did  not 
show  his  annoyance,  however,  and  made  the  offer  with 
the  appearance  of  perfect  good  faith.  Susan  assured 
him  that  she  did  not  mind  going  home  alone,  that  she 
was  used  to  it  and  that,  further,  the  idea  of  taking  him 
out  on  so  useless  an  errand  on  a  cold  night  like  this 
would  make  her  very  uncomfortable  and,  besides, 
would  go  far  to  prevent  her  coming  again  in  the  evening. 

Thus  reassured,  Harold  let  her  go,  and  was  so  much 
relieved  that  he  became  even  more  cheerful  than  usual 
and  was  so  talkative  that  he  failed  to  notice  a  certain 
amount  of  preoccupation  on  Asenath's  part  occasioned 
by  the  thought  that  Susan  had  put  into  her  head. 

A  few  weeks  later  Harold  came  home  one  evening  and 
told  Asenath  that  he  had  met  Wallace  Graham  that 
day  at  lunch  and  that  Wallace  had  told  him  that  they 
ought  to  see  more  of  each  other.  Wallace  and  Harold 
had  been  friends  for  many  years,  quite  intimate,  in 


THE    CHOICE  335 

fact,  until  they  were  both  married.  At  this  particular 
meeting,  both  of  them  much  hurried,  they  had  not 
opportunity  to  say  half  of  the  things  they  wished  to 
tell  each  other.  As  they  left,  Wallace  said  that  it  was  a 
shame  that  they  met  so  seldom.  There  was  no  need  for 
it,  and  thereupon  they  arranged  that  they  and  their 
wives  were  to  dine  with  each  other  every  two  weeks. 
The  first  dinner  was  to  be  Grahams'  on  the  following 
Saturday  evening. 

"Just  plain  meals.  No  company  fussing,"  said  Harold 
to  Asenath.  "No  programme,  no  arrangements  in 
advance.  If  we  want  to  go  anywhere  we'll  go  and  if 
we  want  to  stay  home,  why,  we'll  stay  home." 

Asenath  assented,  but  she  was  not  pleased.  She  felt 
that  Louise  Graham  looked  down  upon  her  and  upon 
that  reason  Asenath  justified  her  dislike.  But  Harold 
wanted  to  go  and  that  was  sufficient. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

NOR  was  Louise  Graham  pleased  when  Wallace 
announced  the  arrangement  he  had  made  with 
Harold.  She  had  always  liked  Harold  and  would 
have  been  happy  if  she  could  have  aroused  some  real 
interest  in  him.  But  this  she  had  never  been  able  to  do. 
Asenath  she  did  not  like.  In  the  first  place,  Asenath  had 
succeeded  where  she  had  failed,  and,  in  the  second,  she 
looked  upon  her  as  an  upstart,  entirely  out  of  her  class 
in  her  present  environment. 

When  Wallace  told  her  that  the  two  couples  were  to 
meet  every  two  weeks,  beginning  the  Saturday  imme- 
diately following,  she  contented  herself  by  saying: 

"You  won't  keep  it  up  long." 

"Why  not?  "he  asked. 

"Because  you're  both  married.  You  and  Hal  have 
always  been  good  friends  and  probably  always  would 
have  been.  But  that  won't  make  your  wives  friends,  and 
you  may  be  sure,  in  this  case,  that  that  silly  little  wife 
of  Hal's  won't  let  him  come  here  without  a  struggle. 
She  doesn't  like  me,  you  know." 

"Well,  do  you  like  her?" 

"I'm  utterly  indifferent  with  regard  to  her.  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  explain  how  a  superior  fellow  like  Hal, 
much  above  the  average,  could  ever  bring  himself  to 
marry  such  a  person." 

336 


THE    CHOICE  337 

"They  say 'love  is  blind'." 

"It  must  be." 

The  dinner  went  off  very  smoothly.  Louise  had  deter- 
mined to  do  her  best  not  to  spoil  the  affair  and  was  most 
particular  in  her  behavior  towards  Asenath.  She  induced 
her  to  talk  about  the  baby,  about  matters  of  the  house- 
hold, got  her  to  tell  her  what  plays  she  had  seen,  what 
books  she  had  read  and  avoided  altogether  any  phase  of 
these  subjects  which  might  bring  Asenath's  ignorance 
into  relief. 

Although  it  was  not  meant  unkindly,  Asenath  in- 
wardly resented  being  talked  down  to.  Shefelt  humiliated 
and  was  angry,  although  she  showed  it  neither  hi  voice 
nor  manner.  Louise  was  quite  delighted  with  herself. 
She  was  convinced  that  she  had  completely  hidden  her 
dislike.  All  through  the  dinner  she  kept  Asenath  in  the 
conversation,  and,  at  the  same  tune,  managed  to  keep 
the  men  in  too. 

When  they  arose  from  the  table,  Louise  began  a  con- 
versation with  Harold  alone,  leaving  Wallace  and 
Asenath  to  themselves.  Presently  she  took  Harold  into 
another  room  to  show  him  some  picture  which  she  had 
recently  bought.  He  found  it  most  interesting,  so  much 
so  that  it  opened  a  discussion  between  them  which  lasted 
nearly  half  an  hour.  Louise  talked  extremely  well,  she 
knew  the  subject  and  so  did  he.  There  was  much  which 
they  held  in  common.  She  saw  that  he  was  interested 
and  fairly  outdid  herself  in  the  liveliness  of  her  ideas  and 


338  THECHOICE 

the  brilliancy  of  her  expression.  As  she  was  speaking, 
Harold  was  suddenly  struck  by  the  great  contrast  between 
her  and  Asenath.  What  a  fine  companion  she  must  be 
for  a  man  of  intellectual  tastes.  Harold,  it  may  be 
observed,  was  in  no  doubt  whatever  as  to  his  inclusion 
in  that  category.  It  was  stimulating  to  be  with  her.  He 
wondered  whether  Wallace  really  appreciated  her  at  her 
true  value.  He  thought  of  these  things  in  an  under 
story  of  his  mind  while  the  main  floor,  so  to  speak,  was 
occupied  by  what  she  said.  She  was  brilliant,  there  was 
no  doubt,  and  Asenath  was,  well — she  was  lovely  of 
course,  but — she  surely  had  no  semblance  of  a  mind  like 
this.  Ah!  it  was  a  pity. 

When  she  had  finished  with  a  smile  which  told  him 
that  she  was  thoroughly  aware  that  she  had  talked  well, 
he  said: 

"You  certainly  put  that  very  clearly." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  she  asked  with  pleasure. 

"I  certainly  do.  I've  never  heard  even  you  talk  so 
well." 

"Perhaps  I  was  inspired  by  my  companion." 

"You're  very  modest." 

"No,  I'm  not.  It  makes  a  big  difference  whom  one 
has  for  a  listener." 

"I  suppose  this  then  is  nothing  to  what  you  say  to 
Wallace." 

"Oh!  Wallace!"  she  said  with  a  pout. 

"What's  the  matter  with  him?" 


THE    CHOICE  339 

"I  suppose  nothing's  the  matter,  but  I  can't  talk  to 
him  about  things  like  that." 

"Why  not?" 

"He  isn't  interested  in  the  first  place  and,  in  the 
second,  Oh!  what's  the  use  of  talking  about  him?  But 
I  can  talk  to  you,  I  always  could.  There  seems  to  be  a 
sympathy,  an  understanding  between  us  that  makes  me 
sure  of  myself." 

"Yes,  I  guess  there  is.  We  always  did  have  great 
talks,  didn't  we?"  He  said  this  musingly.  He  was  won- 
dering how  it  was  that  she  had  never  strongly  attracted 
him.  As  he  remembered  their  talks  of  old,  it  appeared 
that  they  had  always  indulged  in  a  battle  of  wits,  they 
were  always  at  swords'  length.  He  wondered  why. 

"Didn't  we?"  she  answered,  unconsciously  repeating 
his  phrase.  "Oh!  Hal,  I  am  very  hungry  for  sympathy 
nowadays."  She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm.  The  gesture 
spoke  volumes.  He  did  nothing  to  show  it,  but  he  was 
greatly  surprised.  Was  this  woman,  the  wife  of  his  best 
frier.  1,  flirting  with  him?  He  had  no  doubt  of  it,  nor  had 
he  any  doubt  of  his  total  lack  of  desire  to  meet  her  on 
that  ground.  She  had  never  appealed  to  him  except  as 
a  brilliant  intellect.  He  had  never  been  drawn  to  her, 
she  had  never  been  able  to  arouse  any  interest  in  him 
based  on  the  difference  in  sex. 

"You  surprise  me,"  he  said.  He  could  not  have 
explained  why  he  was  willing  to  go  on  with  this  talk. 
Perhaps  it  was  mere  curiosity  to  see  how  far  she  would  go. 


340  THE    CHOICE 

"Why  do  you  find  it  surprising?"  she  asked,  with  an 
appearance  of  great  earnestness,  "surely  you  know  how 
matter-of-fact  Wallace  is." 

"I  didn't  think  he  would  be  with  you."  Harold  really 
had  never  thought  about  it  at  all. 

"Oh!  Don't  let's  talk  about  him.  He's  had  his  chance 
and  he  hasn't  taken  advantage  of  it."  She  spoke  rather 
bitterly. 

"Why  do  you  tell  me  this?"  he  asked.  There  was  a 
slight  emphasis  on  the  word  "me." 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  "I'm  sure  I  didn't 
mean  to  when  I  began.  But,  Hal,"  she  said,  "you  do 
understand  me,  don't  you?" 

"  I  suppose  so,"  he  replied,  wondering  whether  she 
meant  that  he  sympathized  with  her  or  merely  justified 
her  discussion  of  the  subject  with  him. 

"I'm  sure  you  do,"  she  went  on.  "I  hope  nothing  will 
ever  break  into  our  friendship.  It's  very  sweet  to  me." 

The  words  were  harmless  enough,  but  the  manner  was 
significant.  He  knew  definitely  that  she  was  inviting  him 
into  a  flirtation.  Her  hand  was  still  onhisarm.  She  looked 
anxiously  into  his  eyes,  seeking  some  indication  of 
awakened  interest. 

But  now  he  merely  despised  her.  With  out  appearing  to 
notice  her  hand  lying  on  his  arm,  he  moved  away,  saying: 

"  I  suppose  we'd  better  find  out  what  the  others  are 
up  to." 

They  found  Wallace  and  Asenath  turning  the  pages 


THE    CHOICE  341 

of  an  illustrated  book.  Wallace  was  making  humorous 
comments,  apparently  for  his  own  benefit  solely,  for 
Asenath  wore  a  most  serious  expression.  Harold  was 
conscious  that  something  was  wrong,  he  could  not 
imagine  what,  but  he  knew  that  something  had  dis- 
pleased her.  Of  that  he  was  sure. 

The  rest  of  the  evening,  short  as  it  was,  was  entirely 
unsuccessful  and  all  of  them  were  glad  when  it  was  late 
enough  for  the  Larneds  to  go  without  proclaiming  that 
the  affair  had  been  a  dismal  failure. 

Harold  and  Asenath  walked  to  the  corner  at  which 
they  were  to  take  the  car.  Neither  of  them  uttered  a 
word.  He  was  out  of  sorts.  All  of  his  and  Wallace's 
hopes  for  the  success  of  these  meetings  were  blasted.  It 
was  not  necessary  to  discuss  the  matter,  all  of  them 
knew  it.  He  was  particularly  angry  with  Louise.  What 
right  had  she  to  suppose  that  he  was  open  to  a  flirtation 
with  her?  It  was  perfectly  ridiculous  in  her  and  an 
insult  to  him  as  well,  leaving  Wallace  out  of  considera- 
tion. And  suddenly  there  came  into  his  memory  some 
chance  remark  that  Wallace  had  made  to  him  the  day 
they  had  met  which  took  on  a  new  meaning  now.  There 
was  no  doubt  of  it,  Louise  and  Wallace  were  not  satis- 
fied with  their  marriage.  Each  of  them  possessed  appar- 
ently every  qualification.  Any  one  would  have  said  they 
were  perfectly  suited  to  each  other.  But  the  fact  was 
that  they  were  not. 

As  he  thought  these  things,  he  was  conscious  that 


342  THECHOICE 

Asenath  was  unusually  silent.  Then  he  remembered  her 
expression  as  she  sat  by  Wallace  looking  at  the  book  as 
he  and  Louise  came  into  the  room. 

"  What  was  the  matter  with  you  this  evening?"  he 
asked.  "You  weren't  paying  any  attention  to  Wallace 
at  all,  at  least  when  I  came  into  the  room. " 

"Nothing,"  said  Asenath  and  walked  on  silently. 

Harold  waited  a  few  minutes  and  then  returned  to 
the  attack. 

"  There  was  something,"  he  said.  "  I  could  see  by  your 
expression  that  you  were  annoyed.  What  was  it?" 

"Nothing,"  repeated  Asenath. 

"Don't  go  on  saying  'nothing,'  I  know  something 
happened.  Did  Wallace  say  anything  to  displease  you?  " 

"No."  she  answered.  "He  was  very  nice." 

"Well,  what  was  it  then?"  Harold's  annoyance  was 
rapidly  becoming  anger  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that 
he  kept  his  voice  down  to  its  normal  pitch. 

"It  was  nothing,  I  tell  you,"  said  Asenath.  Her  voice 
was  decidedly  shaky  as  she  added,  "Please  don't  talk 
about  it  any  more." 

"But  I  want  to  know —  There's  our  car.  Run  for  it." 

They  ran  and  caught  the  car.  It  was  crowded  and 
they  were  compelled  to  stand.  Conversation  was  prac- 
tically impossible.  It  was  but  a  short  ride,  although  long 
enough  for  Harold's  anger  to  subside  considerably.  As 
they  walked  towards  their  house,  he  began  again,  but 
in  a  much  quieter  tone: 


THE    CHOICE  343 

"  Won't  you  please  tell  me,  Asenath,  what  was  wrong?" 

"  Please  don't  ask  me,  Harold.  I  feel  miserable  enough 
without  talking.  Please." 

She  walked  on  in  silence.  So  did  he,  but  he  was  again 
becoming  angry,  this  time  as  a  result  of  what  he  con- 
sidered her  obstinacy. 

They  entered  the  house  and  Asenath  immediately 
went  upstairs.  She  looked  in  at  the  baby,  found  him 
sleeping  quietly  and  then  went  into  her  dressing  room 
and  closed  the  door,  a  thine  which  she  had  never  done 
before. 

Harold  went  into  the  library  and  picked  up  a  book 
in  the  hope  of  regaining  his  composure.  Try  as  he  would, 
he  could  not  fasten  his  attention  on  the  words  before 
him,  and,  after  several  attempts,  gave  it  up  and  went 
upstairs.  Asenath  was  not  visible.  He  waited  for  her  to 
appear,  but  as  she  did  not  do  so,  he  undressed  slowly 
and  got  into  his  bed  without  extinguishing  the  light. 

He  lay  there  for  about  ten  minutes  awaiting  her,  but 
she  did  not  come.  He  found  himself  feeling  annoyed 
at  what  he  was  ready  to  call  a  silly,  childish  obstinacy, 
but  his  annoyance  at  her  behavior  was  not  an  unmixed 
emotion.  He  was  sorry  for  her.  He  knew  that  something 
much  out  of  the  ordinary  must  have  occurred  to  have 
so  thoroughly  ruffled  her  usual  serenity.  As  the  minutes 
passed  and  she  did  not  come,  he  was  tempted  to  go  to 
sleep  or,  at  least,  to  feign  sleep  and  await  the  morning 
for  an  explanation.  But  he  could  not  do  it.  His  conscience 


THE    CHOICE 

was  not  perfectly  at  ease.  He  should  not  have  remained 
so  long  with  Louise.  He  had  not  been  perfectly  frank 
about  the  matter  of  the  night  school.  But  such  thoughts 
were  silly;  what  had  they  to  do  with  her  treating  him 
in  this  way? 

He  got  out  of  bed  and  walked  over  to  the  door  of 
Asenath's  dressing  room,  intending  to  enter  to  see  what 
was  keeping  her.  But  he  did  not  open  the  door.  He 
knocked  and  received  no  answer.  Then  he  asked  if  he 
might  come  in  and,  again,  there  was  no  answer. 

He  opened  the  door  gently  and  peered  in.  Asenath 
was  in  her  chair  in  front  of  her  dressing  table  with  her 
head  buried  in  her  arms.  She  was  weeping  quietly,  her 
body  shaking  with  her  sobs.  For  a  moment  Harold 
stood  by  the  door,  awaiting  some  sign  from  her  which 
would  indicate  that  she  was  aware  of  his  presence. 
But  none  came.  At  last  he  called  to  her  quietly: 

"Asenath." 

There  was  still  no  answer,  unless  a  new  access  of 
tears  might  be  so  described.  Harold  was  becoming 
more  impatient.  He  went  over  to  her  and  put  his  arm 
on  her  shoulder. 

"Asenath,"  he  said.  "What  on  earth  is  the  matter 
with  you?" 

And  still  no  answer.  He  felt  his  anger  rising  beyond 
control. 

"Asenath,"  hecried,  "get  up  from  there  and  gotobed." 

She  got  up  and,  with  her  face  still  hidden,  walked 


THE     CHOICE  345 

out  of  the  dressing  room  into  the  bedroom  and  got  into 
her  bed.  Harold  extinguished  the  light  and  followed  her 
into  the  bedroom.  Then  he  seated  himself  on  a  chair 
beside  her  bed  and  spoke  to  her. 

"Asenath,  I  insist  that  you  tell  me  immediately 
what  you  are  crying  about.  I  don't  know  what  to 
make  of  you.  Ever  since  we  left  Wallace's  you  have 
been  moping  and  now  you  are  crying  as  though  some 
dreadful  misfortune  had  befallen  you,  and,  when  I 
speak  to  you,  you  won't  answer." 

This  time  Asenath  found  her  voice. 

"Oh!  I  wish  I  was  dead,"  she  said  between  sobs. 

"What  is  the  matter?   I  insist  on  knowing." 

"You  know  very  well." 

"I  know?  What  are  you  talking  about?" 

"I  wish  you  had  never  married  me.  If  it  wasn't  for 
little  Tommy,  I'd  run  away  from  you." 

"Asenath,  won't  you  please  come  to  your  senses. 
You  talk  like  an  ignorant  little  fool." 

The  answer  to  this  was  a  fresh  outburst.  In  scarcely 
recognizable  phrase,  so  choked  with  tears  was  she,  she 
cried: 

"That's  just  what's  the  matter.  I  am  an  ignorant 
little  fool,  and  you're  tired  of  me.  You  go  out  in  the 
evenings  to  that  old  night  school  because  you're  tired 
of  me—" 

"Asenath!"  he  almost  shouted.  "You're  beside  your- 
self. You  don't  know  what  you're  saying." 


346  THE    CHOICE 

"Yes,  I  do.  And  tonight  you  went  off  with  that 
hateful  Louise  Graham  who's  always  mean  to  me,  and 
stuck  with  her  the  whole  evening.  Oh!"  She  wept  with 
redoubled  energy. 

Harold  was  outwardly  calm  now,  although  inwardly 
he  was  quite  the  reverse.  He  saw  that  she  was  excited, 
much  more  so  than  he  had  ever  known  her  to  be,  and 
that  she  must  be  quieted. 

"Listen,  Asenath,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand  and 
stroking  it.  "I  don't  know  where  you  got  your  ideas, 
but  they're  all  wrong.  Will  you  listen  to  me?" 

Asenath's  head,  which  was  buried  face  down  in  the 
pillow,  nodded  assent.  Harold  went  on: 

"If  I  had  had  any  idea  that  you  were  displeased 
because  I  resumed  my  teaching,  I  wouldn't  have  done 
it.  You  remember  I  asked  you.  But  it's  not  too  late,  I 
can  stop  immediately,  and  I  will."  His  voice  was 
kindness  itself  and  its  effect  was  seen  in  a  material 
subsidence  of  her  emotion. 

"As  for  my  being  tired  of  you,  my  dear,"  he  went  on, 
"that's  ridiculous,  utterly  ridiculous.  And  as  for  Louise 
Graham,  she  can — she  can  go  to  Hell  for  all  I  care." 
And  he  meant  it,  too. 

"Come,  Asenath,"  he  said,  leaning  over  to  her  and 
putting  his  arm  around  her  neck,  "you  didn't  mean 
what  you  said,  did  you?"  He  drew  her  head  out  of  the 
pillow  and  turned  her  face  towards  him.  She  turned  her 
body,  and  laid  her  head  on  his  shoulder. 


THE    CHOICE  347 

"Oh!  Harold,"  she  said.  But  that  was  all.  She  could 
go  no  further. 

"You  didn't  mean  what  you  said,  did  you?"  he 
repeated.  He  saw  that  she  was  over  the  spell  of  weeping 
and  that  she  would  soon  be  in  a  normal  state.  He 
was  no  longer  angry  with  her.  He  felt  only  a  great 
tenderness,  a  great  love  for  her.  After  all,  she  had  not 
been  in  the  wrong,  it  was  he  and  he  knew  it.  But  his 
gentleness,  his  touch  had  done  for  Asenath  what  no 
amount  of  reasoning  could  have  brought  about.  It 
made  her  feel  guilty;  it  made  her  feel  that  he  was  the 
injured  one;  it  made  her  wish  to  humiliate  herself. 

"Oh!  Harold,"  she  said  at  length,  "can  you  ever 
forgive  me?" 

"Don't  talk  of  my  forgiving  you,"  he  answered; 
"you've  done  nothing  wrong." 

"Oh!  but  I  have.  I  lost  my  temper,  and  I  said  dreadful 
things.  Can  you  ever  forgive  me?" 

"Don't  let's  talk  about  it  any  more.  Let's  forget  all 
about  it.  Let's  forget  everything  except  that  we  love 
one  another."  And  his  lips  met  hers  in  a  long,  passionate 

kiss. 

"Oh!  Harold,"  she  sighed  at  last,  "you're  so  good 

to  me." 


CHAPTER  XL 

EG  after  her  regular  breathing  indicated  that 
Asenath  was  in  a  sound  slumber,  Harold  lay  in 
his  bed  wide  awake.  He  attempted  to  woo 
sleep  in  all  of  the  traditional  ways,  but  with  no  success. 
It  was  a  most  unusual  occurrence.  Ordinarily  he  was 
asleep  almost  the  instant  his  head  touched  the  pillow. 

He  could  not  account  for  it  at  all.  It  seemed  so  foolish, 
so  unnecessary;  it  was  most  annoying.  As  his  annoyance 
mounted,  his  wakefulness  increased,  and,  presently, 
he  found  it  impossible  to  stay  in  bed. 

He  got  up  softly  so  as  not  to  disturb  Asenath,  and, 
putting  on  a  pair  of  slippers  and  a  bath  robe,  went 
into  the  library,  turned  on  the  light  and  took  up  the 
book  he  happened  to  be  reading.  But  he  was  not 
interested.  He  could  not  fix  his  mind  on  the  words 
before  him.  He  was  restless,  almost  as  uncomfortable 
as  he  had  been  while  in  bed. 

He  laid  the  book  down  and  walked  to  and  fro  across 
the  room  a  few  times.  Fearing  that  the  sound  of  his 
steps  might  disturb  Asenath,  he  again  sat  down. 

This  time  he  made  no  attempt  to  read.  Instead  he 
pondered  the  events  of  the  evening  through  which  he 
had  just  passed.  He  wondered  what  on  earth  could 
have  been  responsible  /or  Asenath's  outburst.  Surely 

348 


THE    CHOICE  349 

it  was  unlike  her  to  find  any  wrong  in  him.  He  was 
fully  aware  that,  with  her,  his  will  was  not  only  law, 
but  that,  in  addition,  the  mere  fact  that  it  had  been 
enunciated  by  him  made  it  wholly  admirable.  She 
had  never  said  so,  but  the  year  and  over  which  they  had 
lived  together  had  shown  it  to  him  more  convincingly 
than  was  possible  by  words. 

Where  then  was  the  moving  cause?  What  had  started 
it?  He  was  sure  that  Asenath  had  not  been  nursing  a 
grudge  against  him  on  account  of  his  having  resumed 
his  teaching.  Of  course,  she  could  not  help  noticing 
that  he  was  now  willing  again  to  take  up  work  which 
he  had  relinquished  in  order  to  be  as  much  in  her 
company  as  possible.  But  she  had  not  shown  that  she 
resented  it.  On  the  contrary,  she  had  made  it  a  practice 
to  wait  up  for  him  on  each  of  the  evenings  he  was 
away  and  her  greeting  had  always  been  fully  as  affec- 
tionate as  ever. 

Could  it  have  begun  because  Louise  and  he  had  been 
so  long  together  away  from  Asenath  and  Wallace? 
Perhaps,  but  it  was  not  likely.  She  had  never  shown 
any  resentment  at  his  having  done  the  same  thing  with 
other  women. 

With  others?  Ah!  that  was  it.  And  now  he  believed 
he  saw  it  all  clearly.  Asenath  had  not  wanted  to  renew 
her  acquaintance  with  Louise.  The  two  girls  were 
distinctly  antipathetic.  She  went  to  Grahams'  house 
practically  under  protest.  And  then  Louise's  talking 


350  THE    CHOICE 

down  to  Asenath's  level,  making  it  obvious  to  the  two 
men  to  what  ordinary,  commonplace  topics  Asenath's 
conversation  was  restricted,  had  fanned  the  slumbering 
embers,  and  his  going  into  another  room  with  Louise 
had  caused  them  to  burst  into  flame. 

That  was  it  and  it  was  silly  and  unreasonable.  He 
felt  as  though  she  had  done  him  an  injury.  Was  he 
always  to  be  thus  hampered?  Was  it  not  enough  that 
she  was  unable  to  meet  him  on  any  kind  of  an  intel- 
lectual basis?  Must  he  always  have  to  reckon  on  her 
childishness? 

And  then  he  thought  of  their  reconciliation  and  how 
it  had  been  accomplished.  They  had  not  discussed 
their  differences  like  two  sensible  people.  They  had 
not  come  together  reasonably  and  learned  their  recip- 
rocal viewpoints.  No,  they  had  come  together,  male  and 
female,  following  not  reason  but  instinct.  He  despised 
himself,  but  he  also  despised  her. 

And  then  he  found  himself  angry,  incapable  of  clear, 
consecutive  thought.  The  same  ideas  returned  con- 
stantly to  his  mind  in  a  dull,  stupid  round. 

He  got  up  and  went  back  to  their  room  and  into  his 
bed.  Once  more  he  was  going  over  the  same  matter, 
in  much  the  same  way,  and  then  he  fell  asleep. 

But  his  sleep  was  not  his  regular  sound  slumber  by 
any  means.  He  half  awoke  from  time  to  time  and  then 
fell  again  into  a  restless  sleep.  Once  during  the  night 
he  heard  Asenath  arise  and  take  the  baby,  who  had 


THE    CHOICE  351 

awakened,  but  he  gave  no  sign  and  was  again  asleep 
before  Asenath  returned  to  her  bed. 

It  was  their  custom  to  lie  abed  on  Sunday  morning 
until  quite  a  late  hour,  but  this  morning  Harold  was 
wide  awake  by  seven  o'clock.  Wide  awake,  but  not  rested. 
His  perturbation  of  the  night  before  was  still  upon  him. 

He  determined  to  get  up  and  take  a  walk  before 
breakfast  in  order  to  clear  his  head.  He  arose  noiselessly, 
made  his  usual  morning  toilet  with  precaution,  so  as 
not  to  disturb  either  Asenath  or  the  baby,  and  by 
seven-thirty  he  let  himself  quietly  out  of  the  front 
door,  having  left  a  hastily  scribbled  note  for  Asenath, 
to  acquaint  her  with  what  he  was  doing. 

It  was  a  fine,  cold  morning.  The  sun  was  just  peeping 
over  the  horizon.  A  thin  coating  of  frozen  snow  lay 
on  the  empty  street.  He  walked  briskly,  inhaling  the 
chill  air  with  zest.  He  had  not  gone  three  blocks  before 
he  began  to  feel  better  and,  by  the  time  he  had  traversed 
six,  he  was  himself  again. 

He  made  no  effort  to  direct  his  thoughts  but  allowed 
them  to  come  as  they  would.  He  noted  little  things  as 
they  came  into  view,  things  he  had  seen  so  many  times 
before,  in  the  preoccupation  which  usually  controlled 
him,  that  he  had  never  noticed  them:  the  white 
shutters  of  a  Colonial  house  of  some  pretension,  the 
tiled  roof  of  a  house  in  the  Spanish  style.  He  did  not 
think  of  them,  they  merely  entered  his  consciousness 
and  made  him  aware  of  his  own  perception. 


352  THE    CHOICE 

He  covered  more  than  a  mile  in  this  way  and  then 
again  his  thought  reverted  to  last  night.  But  he  was 
now  calm.  He  could  see  things  in  their  proper  light. 
He  could  weigh  and  measure  with  justice  and  equity. 

He  had  married  Asenath.  That  much  was  plain.  He 
had  misjudged  her.  Because  he  enjoyed  being  with  her, 
because  she  had  shown  pleasure  in  his  presence,  because, 
in  some  unaccountable  way,  they  had  been  mutually 
attracted,  he  had  never  really  made  any  question  as  to 
her  fitness  to  be  his  wife.  He  had  had  no  thought  of 
marriage  at  all  at  the  beginning.  He  was  simply  charmed 
by  her.  Even  then,  in  view  of  her  almost  complete 
ignorance,  he  had  fatuously  believed  that  he  could 
educate  her,  could  bring  her  up  to  his  standard.  And 
for  what?  So  that  she  might  be  above  the  people  of  her 
own  intellectual  plane;  so  that  she  might  despise  those 
whom,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  she  would  have 
welcomed.  No;  he  had  not  thought  of  that,  he  had 
blindly  tried  to  educate  her  for  himself.  He  did  not 
know  it,  because  his  wisdom,  moderate  as  it  was, 
would  have  rejected  the  idea;  he  did  it  because  some- 
thing in  him  wanted  her  and  wanted  her  to  be  dressed 
up  in  the  trappings  of  the  mind  which  were  suited  to 
his  own.  He  thought  she  had  a  good  mind  requiring 
only  cultivation.  Why?  Because  he  wanted  to  think  she 
had  a  good  mind,  because  he  wanted  her  and  his  pride 
forbade  his  acceptance  of  her  without  this  credential. 
What  was  all  of  his  education  worth,  what  good  were 


THE    CHOICE  353 

all  of  his  previous  associations,  his  standards,  if  they 
were  to  be  hoodwinked  by  something  in  him  which  was 
stronger  than  his  judgment;  which,  in  the  most  im- 
portant decision  that  one  can  make  in  life,  could  set 
aside  everything,  or  worse,  was  able  to  misrepresent 
everything  which  stood  in  its  way?  Was  it  then  pure 
sex  which  had  attracted  him?  Could  it  be  as  primitive 
as  that?  No;  for  that  would  have  cast  him  at  the  feet 
of  the  first  woman  he  met  and  that  was  certainly  not 
his  case. 

No,  it  was  finer  than  that.  It  must  be,  for  he  had  met 
many  girls,  he  had  even  been  sought  by  them  and  had 
rather  avoided  them  or,  at  least,  had  held  them  at 
arm's  length.  No,  it  was  not  mere  sex,  but  sex  as 
personified  by  Asenath.  From  the  very  beginning,  from 
their  first  day  in  the  country,  that  morning  at  the 
brook,  she  had  drawn  him,  she  had  been  desirable  in 
his  eyes.  And  then,  when  he  had  met  her  and  learned 
that  she  was  the  fiancee  of  James  Rawlings,  he  had  had 
a  lively  sense  of  regret,  of  personal  loss.  With  what 
alacrity  he  had  seized  the  opportunity  to  visit  her 
when  he  learned  that  her  engagement  had  been  broken. 
And  from  then  on,  it  had  been  one  continuous  desire, 
ever  broadening,  ever  deepening,  until  it  had  culminated 
in  their  sudden  marriage. 

And  even  then  he  had  not  perceived  her  limitations. 
In  the  greatness  of  his  passion  for  her,  he  had  been 
blind.  It  seemed  as  though  this  passion  had  been  able 


354  THE    CHOICE 

to  monopolize  him,  to  set  aside  the  regular  course  of 
his  life;  to  take  the  place,  temporarily  at  least,  of  the 
interests  which  had  always  been  his.  And  now  these 
interests  claimed  their  place  and  passion  was  relegated 
to  its  own.  Now  he  could  see  Asenath  as  she  was; 
beautiful,  affectionate,  faithful,  true,  but  limited 
intellectually.  She  had  neither  the  mind  nor  even  the 
desire  for  knowledge.  She  had  good  taste,  almost  perfect 
taste,  in  all  matters  aesthetic,  but,  beyond  the  simplest 
abstractions,  her  mind  would  not  go. 

And  this  was  to  be  his  companion  for  the  rest  of  his 
life.  This  had  been  his  choice.  But  had  it  been  his 
choice?  Was  it  he  that  had  selected  her  or  was  it  some- 
thing stronger,  something  which  overruled  his  judg- 
ment? Instinct? 

And  supposing  that  he  had  used  his  judgment,  how 
would  he  have  chosen?  Would  it  have  been  someone 
like  Louise?  He  almost  shuddered  at  the  thought.  He 
thought  of  his  father  and  mother,  of  their  perfect 
harmony,  based  on  different  but  equally  fine  minds, 
on  sturdy  characters  both,  and  wondered  how  they  had 
chosen.  Was  that  intelligent  selection  or  was  it  merely 
good  fortune? 

But,  he  thought,  what  was  the  use  of  all  of  this, 
except  as  a  mere  matter  of  academic  interest?  The  fact 
remained  that  he  was  married  to  Asenath.  That  was 
actuality.  That  must  be  faced.  That  must  be  worked 
out. 


THE    CHOICE  355 

Not  by  relinquishing  what  was  his  own,  such  as  his 
teaching.  That  was  worth  while,  and  Asenath  would  be 
sure  to  see  that  whatever  sacrifice  it  meant  to  her  was 
justified  by  the  worthiness  of  the  cause.  He  would 
follow  his  intellectual  bent,  but  he  would  recognize  to 
the  best  of  his  ability  her  rights  as  well.  He  would 
give  to  her  what  she  wanted,  and  he  would  give  it 
willingly,  ungrudgingly.  She  should  have  her  share 
and  he  would  have  his. 

They  had  much  in  common  after  all.  Intellectual 
pursuits  were  not  everything.  There  were  the  arts, 
music,  pictures,  which  they  might  share.  Perhaps  it 
was  even  better  that  he  should  have  interests  apart 
from  hers,  that  his  own  particular  activities  were 
independent.  It  might  be  much  better  for  her  to  be 
apart  from  his  work.  Who  could  tell? 

After  all,  she  was  not  captious,  but,  instead,  was 
perfectly  reasonable.  He  could  have  done  much  worse. 
He  would  never,  if  he  could  help  it,  let  her  see  that  she 
was  not  all  he  had  expected. 

A  sudden  feeling  of  hunger  awakened  him  to  the 
fact  that  it  was  nearly  time  for  their  breakfast.  He 
turned  about  and  made  for  the  nearest  car.  Twenty 
minutes  later  he  had  reached  his  house.  The  maid  was 
just  taking  in  the  morning  newspaper. 

He  walked  upstairs  without  noise,  and,  as  he  reached 
the  landing,  he  saw  Asenath  with  the  baby  in  her 
arms,  unconscious  of  his  presence.  Never  had  she 


356  THE    CHOICE 

seemed  so  beautiful.  The  holy  pride  of  the  mother  in 
her  child  glorified  her,  and,  in  a  great  wave  of  emotion, 
Harold  felt  the  strength  of  his  love  for  her  newly  born. 
She  was  his  wife  and  the  mother  of  his  child.  And  he 
was  humbly  grateful. 

THE  END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  051  707     8 


